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ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



By Roy Chapman Andrews 

ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 
CAMPS AND TRAILS IN CHINA 

[With Yvette Borup Andrews] 

WHALE HUNTING WITH 
GUN AND CAMERA 



D. APPLETON &, COMPANY 

Publishers, New York 



T245 






. 




A NOMAD OF THE MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

A NATURALIST'S ACCOUNT OP 
CHINA'S "GREAT NORTHWEST" 



BY 

ROY CHAPMAN ANDREWS 

ft 

ASSOCIATE CURATOR OF MAMMALS IN THE AMERICAN MUSEUM OP NATURAL 
HISTORY, AND LEADER OF THE MUSEUM'S SECOND ASIATIC EXPE- 
DITION. AUTHOR OF "WHALE HUNTING WITH GUN AND 
CAMERA," "CAMPS AND TRAILS IN CHINA," ETC. 




PHOTOGRAPHS BY 

YVETTE BORUP ANDREWS 

Photographer of the 
Second Asiatic Expedition 



D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
NEW YORK: LONDON: MCMXXI 






COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 



PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OP AMERICA 



MM110K21 



S) CI. A 6 S 6 4 1 






'24 






THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO 

Dr. J. A. ALLEN 

WHO, THROUGH HIS PROFOUND KNOWLEDGE, UNSELFISH 
DEVOTION TO SCIENCE, AND NEVER-FAILING SYMPATHY 
WITH YOUNGER STUDENTS OF ZOOLOGY HAS 
BEEN AN EXAMPLE AND AN INSPIRATION DURING 
THE YEARS I HAVE WORKED AT HIS SIDE. 



PREFACE 

During 1916-1917 the First Asiatic Expedition of the 
American Museum of Natural History carried on zoological 
explorations along the frontiers of Tibet and Burma in the 
little known province of Yiin-nan, China. The narrative of 
that expedition has already been given to the public in the first 
book of this series "Camps and Trails in China." It was al- 
ways the intention of the American Museum to continue the 
Asiatic investigations, and my presence in China on other work 
in 1918 gave the desired opportunity at the conclusion of the 
war. 

Having made extensive collections along the southeast- 
ern edge of the great central Asian plateau, it was especially 
desirable to obtain a representation of the fauna from the 
northeastern part in preparation for the great expedition 
which, I am glad to say, is now in course of preparation, and 
which will conduct work in various other branches of science. 
Consequently, my wife and I spent one of the most delightful 
years of our lives in Mongolia and North China on the Second 
Asiatic Expedition of the American Museum of Natural His- 
tory. 

The present book is the narrative of our work and travels. 
As in "Camps and Trails" I have written it entirely from the 
sportsman's standpoint and have purposely avoided scientific 
details which would prove uninteresting or wearisome to the 
general public. Full reports of the expedition's results will 
appear in due course in the Museum's scientific publications 
and to them I would refer those readers who wish further de- 
tails of the Mongolian fauna. 

vii 



viii PREFACE 

Asia is the most fascinating hunting ground in all the world, 
not because of the quantity of game to be found there but 
because of its quality, and scientific importance. Central Asia 
was the point of origin and distribution for many mammals 
which inhabit other parts of the earth to-day and the habits 
and relationships of some of its big game animals are almost 
unknown. Because of unceasing native persecution, lack of 
protection, the continued destruction of forests and the ever 
increasing facilities for transportation to the remote districts 
of the interior, many of China's most interesting and impor- 
tant forms of wild life are doomed to extermination in the very 
near future. 

Fortunately world museums are awakening to the necessity 
of obtaining representative series of Asiatic mammals before 
it is too late, and to the broad vision of the President and 
Board of Trustees of the American Museum of Natural His- 
tory my wife and I owe the exceptional opportunities which 
have been given us to carry on zoological explorations in Asia. 

We are especially grateful to President Henry Fairfield 
Osborn, who is ready, always, to support enthusiastically any 
plans which tend to increase knowledge of China or to 
strengthen cordial relations between the United States and the 
Chinese Republic. 

Director F. A. Lucas and Assistant Secretary George H. 
Sherwood have never failed in their attention to the needs of 
our expeditions when in the field and to them I extend our best 
thanks. 

Mr. and Mrs. Charles L. Bernheimer, who have contributed 
to every expedition in which I have taken part, generously 
rendered financial aid for the Mongolian work. 

My wife, who is ever my best assistant in the field, was 
responsible for all the photographic work of the expedition and 
I have drawn much upon her daily "Journals" in the prepara- 
tion of this book. 



PREFACE ix 

I wish to acknowledge the kindness of the Editors of Har- 
per's Magazine, Natural History, Asia Magazine and the 
Trans-Pacific Magazine in whose publications parts of this 
book have already appeared. 

We are indebted to a host of friends who gave assistance 
to the expedition and to us personally in the field: 

The Wai Chiao Pu (Ministry of Foreign Affairs) freely 
granted permits for the expedition to travel throughout China 
and extended other courtesies for which I wish to express ap- 
preciation on behalf of the President and Board of Trustees 
of the American Museum of Natural History. 

In Peking, His Excellency Paul S. Reinsch, formerly Ameri- 
can Minister to China, Dr. C. D. Tenney, Mr. Willys Peck, 
Mr. Ernest B. Price and other members of the Legation staff 
obtained import permits and attended to many details con- 
nected with the Chinese Government. 

Mr. A. M. Guptil acted as our Peking representative while 
we were in the field and assumed much annoying detail in for- 
warding and receiving shipments of supplies and equipment. 
Other gentlemen in Peking who rendered us courtesies in va- 
rious ways are Commanders I. V. Gillis and C. T. Hutchins, 
Dr. George D. Wilder, Dr. J. G. Anderson and Messrs. H. C. 
Faxon, E. G. Smith, C. R. Bennett, M. E. Weatherall and J. 
Kenrick. 

In Kalgan, Mr. Charles L. Coltman arranged for the trans- 
portation of the expedition to Mongolia and not only gratu- 
itously acted as our agent but was always ready to devote his 
own time and the use of his motor cars to further the work 
of the party. 

In Urga, Mr. F. A. Larsen of Anderson, Meyer & Company, 
was of invaluable assistance in obtaining horses, carts and 
other equipment for the expedition as well as in giving us the 
benefit of his long and unique experience in Mongolia. 

Mr. E. V. Olufsen of Anderson, Meyer & Company, put him- 



x PREFACE 

self, his house, and his servants at our disposal whenever we 
were in Urga and aided us in innumerable ways. 

Mr. and Mrs. Oscar Mamen often entertained us in their 
home. Mr. and Mrs. E. L. MacCallie, who accompanied us on 
one trip across Mongolia and later resided temporarily in 
Urga, brought equipment for us across Mongolia and enter- 
tained us while we were preparing to return to Peking. 

Monsieur A. Orlow, Russian Diplomatic Agent in Urga, 
obtained permits from the Mongolian Government for our work 
in the Urga region and gave us much valuable advice. 

In south China, Reverend H. Castle of Tunglu, and Rev- 
erend Lacy Moffet planned a delightful hunting trip for us 
in Che-kiang Province. 

In Shanghai the Hon. E. S. Cunningham, American Con- 
sul-General, materially aided the expedition in the shipment of 
specimens. To Mr. G. M. Jackson, General Passenger Agent 
of the Canadian Pacific Ocean Services, thanks are due for 
arranging for rapid transportation to America of our valu- 
able collections. 

Roy Chapman Andrews 

American Museum of 

Natural History, 
New York City, U. S. A. 



CONTENTS 

PAGH 

Preface • . vii 

INTRODUCTION 

Early conquests of the Mongols — Why their power was lost — 
Independence of Outer Mongolia — China's opportunity 
to obtain her former power in Mongolia — General Hsu 
Shu-tseng — Memorial to President of China — Cancella- 
tion of Outer Mongolia's autonomy .... xix 

CHAPTER I 

ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 

Arrival in Kalgan — The Hutukhtu's motor car — Start for the 
great plateau — Camel caravans — The pass — A motor car 
on the Mongolian plains — Start from Hei-ma-hou — 
Chinese cultivation — The Mongol not a farmer — The 
grass-lands of Inner Mongolia — The first Mongol village 
— Construction of a yurt — Bird life — The telegraph line 1 

CHAPTER II 

SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 

Wells in the desert — Panj-kiang — A lama monastery — A 
great herd of antelope — A wild chase — Long range shoot- 
ing — Amazing speed — An exhibition of high-class run- 
ning — Difficulties in traveling — Description of the north- 
ern Mongols — Love of sport — Ude — Bustards— Great 
monastery at Turin — The rolling plains of Outer Mon- 
golia — Urga during the World War . , . * 13 

CHAPTER III 

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 

Return trip — The "agony box" — The first accident — My 
Czech and Cossack passengers — The "agony box" breaks 



xii CONTENTS 

PAGE 

a wheel — A dry camp — More motor trouble — Meeting 
with Langdon Warner — Our game of hide-and-seek in 
the Orient — An accident near Panj-kiang — We use mut- 
ton fat for oil — Arrival at Hei-ma-hou — A wet ride to 
Kalgan — Trouble at the gate ...... 27 

CHAPTER IV 

NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 

Winter in Peking — We leave for Mongolia — Inner Mongolia 
in spring — Race with a camel — Geese and cranes — Go- 
phers — An electric light in the desert — Chinese motor 
companies — An antelope buck — A great herd — Brilliant 
atmosphere of Mongolia — Notes on antelope speed . 38 

CHAPTER V 

ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 

Moving pictures under difficulties — A lost opportunity — A 
zoological garden in the desert — Killing a wolf — Speed 
of a wolf — Antelope steak and parfum de chameau — 
A caravan — A wild wolf-hunt — Sulphuric acid — The 
Turin Plains 50 



CHAPTER VI 

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 

A city of contrasts — The Chinese quarter like frontier Amer- 
ica — A hamlet of modern Russia — An indescribable 
mixture of Mongolia, Russia and China in West Urga — 
Description of a Mongol woman — Urga like a pageant on 
the stage of a theater — The sacred mountain — The palace 
of the "Living God" — Love for western inventions — A 
strange scene at the Hutukhtu's palace — A bed for the 
Living Buddha — Lamaism — The Lama City — Ceremony 
in the temple — Prayer wheels — Burial customs — Corpses 
eaten by dogs — The dogs of Mongolia — Cleanliness — 
Food — Morality — "H. C. L." in Urga — A horrible prison 
— Mr. F. A. Larsen 62 






CONTENTS xiii 

CHAPTER VII 

THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 

PAGE 

Beginning work — Carts — Ponies — Our interpreter — Mongol 
tent — Native clothes best for work — Supplies — How to 
keep "fit" in the field — Accidents — Sain Noin Khan — 
The first day — A night in a yurt — Cranes — We trade 
horses — Horse stealing — No mammals — Birds — Break- 
ing a cart horse — Mongol ponies 84 

CHAPTER VIII 

THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 

Trapping marmots — Skins valuable as furs — Native methods 
of hunting — A marmot dance — Habits — The first hunt- 
ing-camp — Our Mongol neighbors — After antelope on 
horseback — The first buck — A pole-cat — The second 
day's hunt — The vastness of the plains — Development 
of a "land sense" — Another antelope 99 

CHAPTER IX 

HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAINS U 

Mongol hospitality — Camping on the Turin Plains — An 
enormous herd of antelope — A wonderful ride — Three 
gazelle — A dry camp — My pony, Kublai Khan — Plains 
life about a well — Antelope babies — A wonderful pro- 
vision of nature — Habits — Species in Mongolia — The 
"goitre" — Speed — Work in camp — Small mammals . 116 

I 

CHAPTER X 

AN ADVENTURE IN THE LAMA CITY 

An unexpected meeting with a river — Our new camp in Urga 
— "God's Brother's House" — Photographing in the Lama 
City — A critical moment — Help from Mr. Olufsen — The 
motion picture camera an instrument of magic — Floods 
in Urga — Duke Loobtseng Yangsen — The Duchess — 
Vegetables in Urga . . . . . . .133 



xiv CONTENTS 

CHAPTER XI 

MONGOLS AT HOME 



PAGE 



The forests of Mongolia — A bad day's work — The Terelche 
River — Tserin Dorchy's family — A wild-wood romance 
— Evening in the valley — Doctoring the natives — A clever 
lama — A popular magazine — Return of Tserin Dorchy 
— Independence — His hunt on the Sacred Mountain — 
Punishment — Hunting with the Mongols — T samba, and 
"buttered tea" — A splendid roebuck — The fortune of a 
naturalist — Eating the deer's viscera — The field meet of 
the Terelche Valley — Horse races — Wrestling . .143 

CHAPTER XII 

NOMADS OF THE FOREST 

An ideal camp — The first wapiti — A roebuck — Currants and 
berries — Catching fish — Enormous trout — A rainy day in 
camp — A wapiti seen from camp — Mongolian weather — 
Flowers — Beautiful country — A musk deer — Habits and 
commercial value — A wild boar — Success and failure in 
hunting — We kill two wapiti — Return to Urga — Mr. and 
Mrs. MacCallie — Packing the collections — Across the 
plains to Peking 161 

CHAPTER XIII 

THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 

Importance of Far East — Desert, plain, and water in Mon- 
golia — The Gobi Desert — Agriculture — Pastoral products 
— Treatment of wool and camel hair — Marmots as a 
valuable asset — Urga a growing fur market — Chinese 
merchants — Labor — Gold mines — Transportation — Motor 
trucks — Passenger motor service — Forests — Aeroplanes 
— Wireless telegraph .175 

CHAPTER XIV 

THE GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 

Brigands, Chinese soldiers and "battles" — The Mongolian 
sheep — Harry Caldwell — Difference between North and 



CONTENTS xv 

PAGB 

South China — The "dust age" in China — Inns — Brigand 
scouts — The Tai Hai Lake — Splendid shooting — The 
sheep mountains — An awe-inspiring gorge — An introduc- 
tion to the argali — Caldwell's big ram — A herd of sheep 
— My first ram — A second sheep — The end of a perfect 
day 184 

CHAPTER XV 

MONGOLIAN "ARGALl" 

A long climb — Roebuck — An unsuspecting ram — My Mongol 
hunter — Donkeys instead of sheep — Two fine rams — The 
big one lost — A lecture on hunting — A night walk in the 
canon — Commander Hutchins and Major Barker — Tom 
and I get a ram — The end of the sheep hunt . . . 205 

CHAPTER XVI 

THE HORSE-DEER OF SHANSI 

Wu Tai Hai — The "American Legation" — Interior of a North 
Shansi house — North China villages — The people — 
"Horse-deer" — The names "wapiti" and "elk" — A great 
gorge — A rock temple — The hunting grounds furnish a 
surprise — A huge bull wapiti 219 

CHAPTER XVII 

WAPITI, ROEBUCK AND GORAL 

Our camp in a new village — Game at our door — Concentra- 
tion of animal life — Chinese roebuck — A splendid hunt — 
Goral — Difficult climbing — "Hide and seek" with a goral 
— The second wapiti — A happy ending to a cold day . 230 

CHAPTER XVIII 

WILD PIGS ANIMAL AND HUMAN 

Shansi Province famous for wild boar — Flesh delicious — 
When to hunt — Where to go — Inns and coal gas — Kao- 
chia-chaung — A long shot — Our camp at Tziloa — Native 






xvi CONTENTS 

PAGH 

hunters — A young pig — A hard chase — Pheasants — An- 
other pig — Smith runs down a big sow — Chinese steal 
our game — A wounded boar 241 

CHAPTER XIX 

THE HUNTING PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 

A visit to Duke Tsai Tse — A "personality" — The Tung Ling 
— The road to the tombs — A country inn — The front 
view of the Tung Ling — The tombs of the Empress 
Dowager and Ch'ien Lung — The "hinterland" — An area 
of desolation — Our camp in the forest — Reeves's pheasant 
— The most beautiful Chinese deer — "Blood horns" as 
medicine — Goral — Animals and birds of the Tung Ling 
— A new method of catching trout — A forest fire — Native 
stupidity — Wanton destruction — China's great oppor- 
tunity 256 

Index 271 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



FACING 
PAGE 

A Nomad of the Mongolian Plains . . Frontispiece 

Roy Chapman Andrews on "Kublai Khan" .... 8 

Yvette Borup Andrews, Photographer of the Expedition . 9 

At the End of the Long Trail from Outer Mongolia . . 20 

Women of Southern Mongolia 21 

The Middle Ages and the Twentieth Century ... 34 

A Mongolian Antelope Killed from Our Motor Car . . 35 
Watering Camels at a Well in the Gobi Desert . . .35 

The Water Carrier for a Caravan ..... 46 

A Thirty-five Pound Bustard 47 

Young Mongolia 47 

Mongol Horsemen on the Streets of Urga .... 60 

The Prison at Urga 61 

A Criminal in a Coffin with Hands Manacled . . . .61 

The Great Temple at Urga 72 

A Prayer Wheel and a Mongol Lama 72 

Lamas Callings the Gods at a Temple in Urga ... 73 

Mongol Praying at a Shrine in Urga 73 

Mongol Women Beside a Yurt ...... 82 

The Headdress of a Mongol Married Woman ... 82 

The Framework of a Yurt 83 

Mongol Women and a Lama . . . . . . .83 

The Traffic Policeman on Urga's "Broadway" ... 98 



xvn 



xvin 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



A Mongol Lama .... 

The Grasslands of Outer Mongolia 

Mongol Herdsmen Carrying Lassos 

A Lone Camp on the Desert . 

Tibetan Yaks .... 

Our Caravan Crossing the Terelche River . 

Our Base Camp at the Edge of the Forest . 

The Mongol Village of the Terelche Valley . 

Wrestlers at Terelche Valley Field Meet . 

Women Spectators at the Field Meet . 

Cave Dwellings in North Shansi Province . 

An Asiatic Wapiti ..... 

Harry R. Caldwell and a Mongolian Bighorn 

Where the Bighorn Sheep Are Found . 

A Mongolian Roebuck ..... 

The Head of the Record Ram . 

Map of Mongolia and China, Showing Route 
Asiatic Expedition in Broken Lines . • 



of Second 



FACING 
PAGE 

98 
99 
116 
117 
134 
135 
148 
149 
164 
165 
184 
185 
185 
216 
217 
224 



225 



INTRODUCTION 

The romantic story of the Mongols and their achievements 
has been written so completely that it is unnecessary to repeat 
it here even though it is as fascinating as a tale from the 
Arabian Nights. The present status of the country, how- 
ever, is but little known to the western world. In a few 
words I will endeavor to sketch the recent political develop- 
ments, some of which occurred while we were in Mongolia. 

In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries the great Genghiz 
Khan and his illustrious successor Kublai Khan "almost in a 
night" erected the greatest empire the world has ever seen. 
Not only did they conquer all of Asia, but they advanced in 
Europe as far as the Dnieper leaving behind a trail of blood 
and slaughter. 

All Europe rose against them, but what could not be ac- 
complished by force of arms was wrought in the Mongols 
themselves by an excess of luxury. In their victorious ad- 
vance great stores of treasure fell into their hands and they 
gave themselves to a life of ease and indulgence. 

By nature the Mongols were hard riding, hard living war- 
riors, accustomed to privation and fatigue. The poison of 
luxury ate into the very fibers of their being and gradually 
they lost the characteristics which had made them great. The 
ruin of the race was completed by the introduction of Lama- 
ism, a religion which carries only moral destruction where it 
enters, and eventually the Mongols passed under the rule of 
the once conquered Chinese and then under the Manchus. 

Until the overthrow of the Manchu regime in China in 1911, 
and the establishment of the present republic, there were no 

xix 



xx INTRODUCTION 

particularly significant events in Mongolian history. But at 
that time the Russians, wishing to create a buffer state between 
themselves and China as well as to obtain special commercial 
privileges in Mongolia, aided the Mongols in rebellion, fur- 
nished them with arms and ammunition and with officers to 
train their men. 

A somewhat tentative proclamation of independence for 
Outer Mongolia was issued in December, 1911, by the Hu- 
tukhtu and nobles of Urga, and the Chinese were driven out 
of the country with little difficulty. Beset with internal 
troubles, the Chinese paid but scant attention to Mongolian 
affairs until news was received in Peking in October, 1912, 
that M. Korostovetz, formerly Russian Minister to China, had 
arrived secretly in Urga and on November 3, 1912, had rec- 
ognized the independence of Outer Mongolia on behalf of his 
Government. 

It then became incumbent upon China to take official note 
of the situation, especially as foreign complications could not 
be faced in view of her domestic embarrassments. 

Consequently on November 5, 1913, there was concluded a 
Russo-Chinese agreement wherein Russia recognized that Outer 
Mongolia was under the suzerainty of China, and China, on 
her part, admitted the autonomy of Outer Mongolia. The es- 
sential element in the situation was the fact that Russia stood 
behind the Mongols with money and arms and China's hand 
was forced at a time when she was powerless to resist. 

Quite naturally, Mongolia's political status has been a sore 
point with China and it is hardly surprising that she should 
have awaited an opportunity to reclaim what she considered 
to be her own. 

This opportunity arrived with the collapse of Russia and 
the spread of Bolshevism, for the Mongols were dependent upon 
Russia for material assistance in anything resembling military 
operations, although, as early as 1914, they had begun to re- 



INTRODUCTION xxi 

alize that they were cultivating a dangerous friend. The 
Mongolian army, at the most, numbered only two or three 
thousand poorly equipped and undisciplined troops who would 
require money and organization before they could become an 
effective fighting force. 

The Chinese were not slow to appreciate these conditions and 
General Hsu Shu-tseng, popularly known as "Little Hsu," by 
a clever bit of Oriental intrigue sent four thousand soldiers to 
Urga with the excuse of protecting the Mongols from a so- 
called threatened invasion of Buriats and brigands. A little 
later he himself arrived in a motor car and, when the stage 
was set, brought such pressure to bear upon the Hutukhtu 
and his Cabinet that they had no recourse except to cancel 
Mongolia's autonomy and ask to return to their former place 
under Chinese rule. 

This they did on November 17, 1919, in a formal Memorial 
addressed to the President of the Chinese Republic, which is 
quoted below as it appeared in the Peking press, under date 
of November 24, 1919 : 

"We, the Ministers and Vice-Ministers [here follow their 
names and ranks] of all the departments of the autonomous 
Government of Outer Mongolia, and all the princes, dukes, 
hutukhtus and lamas and others resident at Urga, hereby 
jointly and severally submit the following petition for the es- 
teemed perusal of His Excellency the President of the Republic 
of China: — 

"Outer Mongolia has been a dependency of China since the 
reign of the Emperor Kang Hsi, remaining loyal for over two 
hundred years, the entire population, from princes and dukes 
down to the common people having enjoyed the blessings of 
peace. During the reign of the Emperor Tao Kwang changes 
in the established institutions, which were opposed to Mon- 
golian sentiment, caused dissatisfaction which was aggravated 
by the corruption of the administration during the last days 



xxii INTRODUCTION 

of the Manchu Dynasty. Taking advantage of this Mongolian 
dissatisfaction, foreigners instigated and assisted the inde- 
pendence movement. Upon the Kiakhta Convention being 
signed the autonomy of Outer Mongolia was held a fait ac- 
compli, China retaining an empty suzerainty while the officials 
and people of Outer Mongolia lost many of their old rights 
and privileges. Since the establishment of this autonomous 
government no progress whatsoever has been chronicled, the 
affairs of government being indeed plunged in a state of chaos, 
causing deep pessimism. 

"Lately, chaotic conditions have also reigned supreme in 
Russia, reports of revolutionary elements threatening our 
frontiers having been frequently received. Moreover, since the 
Russians have no united government it is only natural that 
they are powerless to carry out the provisions of the treaties, 
and now that they have no control over their subjects the 
Buriat tribes have constantly conspired and cooperated with 
bandits, and repeatedly sent delegates to Urga urging our Gov- 
ernment to join with them and form a Pan-Mongolian nation. 
That this propaganda work, so varied and so persistent, which 
aims at usurping Chinese suzerainty and undermining the 
autonomy of Outer Mongolia, does more harm than good to 
Outer Mongolia, our Government is well aware. The Buriats, 
with their bandit Allies, now considering us unwilling to 
espouse their cause, contemplate dispatching troops to violate 
our frontiers and to compel our submission. Furthermore, 
forces from the so-called White Army have forcibly occupied 
Tanu Ulianghai, an old possession of Outer Mongolia, and at- 
tacked both Chinese and Mongolian troops, this being followed 
by the entry of the Red Army, thus making the situation im- 
possible. 

"Now that both our internal and external affairs have 
reached such a climax, we, the members of the Government, 
in view of the present situation, have assembled all the princes, 



INTRODUCTION xxiii 

dukes, lamas and others and have held frequent meetings to 
discuss the question of our future welfare. Those present have 
been unanimously of the opinion that the old bonds of friend- 
ship having been restored our autonomy should be canceled, 
since Chinese and Mongolians are filled with a common purpose 
and ideal. 

"The result of our decision has been duly reported to His 
Holiness the Bogdo Jetsun Dampa Hutukhtu Khan and has 
received his approval and support. Such being the position 
we now unanimously petition His Excellency the President 
that the old order of affairs be restored." 
(Signed) 

"Premier and Acting Minister of the Interior, Prince Lama 
Batma Torgoo. 

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Tarkhan Puntzuk Cheilin. 

"Vice-Minister, Great Lama of Beliktu, Prince Puntzuk 
Torgoo. 

"Minister of Foreign Affairs, Duke Cheilin Torgoo. 

"Vice-Minister, Dalai Prince Cheitantnun Lomour. 

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Ochi, Kaotzuktanba. 

"Minister of War, Prince of Eltoni Jamuyen Torgoo. 

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Eltoni Selunto Chihloh. 

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Elteni Punktzu Laptan. 

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Itkemur Chitu Wachir. 

"Minister of Finance, Prince Lama Loobitsan Paletan. 

"Vice-Minister, Prince Torgee Cheilin. 

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Suchuketu Tehmutgu Kejwan. 

"Minister of Justice, Dalai of Chiechenkhan Wananin. 

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Daichinchihlun Chackehbatehorhu. 

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Cholikota Lama Dashtunyupu." 

Naturally, the President of China graciously consented to 
allow the prodigal to return and "killed the fatted calf" by 
conferring high honors and titles upon the Hutukhtu. More- 



xxiv INTRODUCTION 

over, he appointed the Living Buddha's good friend ( ?) "Little 
Hsu" to convey them to him. 

Thus, Mongolia again has become a part of China. Who 
knows what the future has in store for her? But events are 
moving rapidly and by the time this book is published the cur- 
tain may have risen upon a new act of Mongolia's tragedy. 



ACROSS 
MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

CHAPTER I 

ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 

Careering madly in a motor car behind a herd of an- 
telope fleeing like wind-blown ribbons across a desert 
which isn't a desert, past caravans of camels led by 
picturesque Mongol horsemen, the Twentieth Century 
suddenly and violently interjected into the Middle Ages, 
should be contrast and paradox enough for even the 
most blase sportsman. I am a naturalist who has wan- 
dered into many of the far corners of the earth. I have 
seen strange men and things, but what I saw on the great 
Mongolian plateau fairly took my breath away and left 
me dazed, utterly unable to adjust my mental per- 
spective. 

When leaving Peking in late August, 1918, to cross 
the Gobi Desert in Mongolia, I knew that I was to go 
by motor car. But somehow the very names "Mon- 
golia" and "Gobi Desert" brought such a vivid picture 
of the days of Kublai Khan and ancient Cathay that my 
clouded mind refused to admit the thought of automo- 
biles. It was enough that I was going to the land of 

which I had so often dreamed. 

1 



2 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Not even in the railway, when I was being borne 
toward Kalgan and saw lines of laden camels plodding 
silently along the paved road beside the train, or when 
we puffed slowly through the famous Nankou Pass and 
I saw that wonder of the world, the Great Wall, 
winding like a gray serpent over ridge after ridge of the 
mountains, was my dream-picture of mysterious Mon- 
golia dispelled. I had seen all this before, and had ac- 
cepted it as one accepts the motor cars beside the splen- 
did walls of old Peking. It was too near, and the 
railroad had made it commonplace. 

But Mongolia! That was different. One could not 
go there in a roaring train. I had beside me the same 
old rifle and sleeping bag that had been carried across 
the mountains of far Yiin-nan, along the Tibetan fron- 
tier, and through the fever-stricken jungles of Burma. 
Somehow, these companions of forest and mountain 
trails, and my reception at Kalgan by two khaki-clad 
young men, each with a belt of cartridges and a six- 
shooter strapped about his waist, did much to keep me 
in a blissful state of unpreparedness for the destruction 
of my dream-castles. 

That night as we sat in Mr. Charles Coltman's home, 
with his charming wife, a real woman of the great out- 
doors, presiding at the dinner table, the talk was all 
of shooting, horses, and the vast, lone spaces of the Gobi 
Desert — but not much of motor cars. Perhaps they 
vaguely realized that I was still asleep in an unreal 
world and knew that the awakening would come all 
too soon. 



ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 3 

Yet I was dining that night with one of the men who 
had destroyed the mystery of Mongolia. In 1916, Colt- 
man and his former partner, Oscar Mamen, had driven 
across the plains to Urga, the historic capital of Mon- 
golia. But most unromantic and incongruous, most dis- 
heartening to a dreamer of Oriental dreams, was what 
I learned a few days later when the awakening had 
really come — that among the first cars ever to cross 
the desert was one purchased by the Hutukhtu, the 
Living Buddha, the God of all the Mongols. 

When the Hutukhtu learned of the first motor car 
in Mongolia he forthwith demanded one for him- 
self. So his automobile was brought safely through 
the rocky pass at Kalgan and across the seven hundred 
miles of plain to Urga by way of the same old caravan 
trail over which, centuries ago, Genghis Khan had sent 
his wild Mongol raiders to conquer China. 

We arose long before daylight on the morning of 
August 29. In the courtyard lanterns flashed and dis- 
appeared like giant fireflies as the mafus (muleteers) 
packed the baggage and saddled the ponies. The cars 
had been left on the plateau at a mission station called 
Hei-ma-hou to avoid the rough going in the pass, and 
we were to ride there on horseback while the food and 
bed-rolls went by cart. There were five of us in the 
party — Mr. and Mrs. Coltman, Mr. and Mrs. Lucander, 
and myself. I was on a reconnoissance and Mr. Colt- 
man's object was to visit his trading station in Urga, 
where the Lucanders were to remain for the winter. 

The sun was an hour high when we clattered over the 



4 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

slippery paving stones to the north gate of the city. 
Kalgan is built hard against the Great Wall of China — 
the first line of defense, the outermost rampart in the 
colossal structure which for so many centuries protected 
China from Tartar invasion. Beyond it there was noth- 
ing between us and the great plateau. 

After our passports had been examined we rode 
through the gloomy chasm-like gate, turned sharply to 
the left, and found ourselves standing on the edge of a 
half-dry river bed. Below us stretched line after line of 
double-humped camels, some crowded in yellow-brown 
masses which seemed all heads and curving necks, and 
some kneeling quietly on the sand. From around a 
shoulder of i ock came other camels, hundreds of them, 
treading slowly and sedately, nose to tail, toward the 
gate in the Great Wall. They had come from the far 
country whither we were bound. To me there is some- 
thing fascinating about a camel. Perhaps it is because 
he seems to typify the great waste spaces which I love, 
that I never tire of watching him swing silently, and 
seemingly with resistless power, across the desert. 

Our way to Hei-ma-hou led up the dry river bed, with 
the Great Wall on the left stretching its serpentine 
length across the hills, and on the right picturesque cliffs 
two hundred feet in height. At their bases nestle mud- 
roofed cottages and Chinese inns, but farther up the 
river the low hills are all of loess — brown, wind-blown 
dust, packed hard, which can be cut like cheese. De- 
serted though they seem from a distance, they really 
teem with human life. Whole villages are half dug, half 



ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 5 

built, into the hillsides, but are well-nigh invisible, for 
every wall and roof is of the same brown earth. 

Ten miles or so from Kalgan we began on foot the 
long climb up the pass which gives entrance to the great 
plateau. I kept my eyes steadily on the pony's heels 
until we reached a broad, flat terrace halfway up the 
pass. Then I swung about that I might have, all at 
once, the view which lay below us. It justified my great- 
est hopes, for miles and miles of rolling hills stretched 
away to where the far horizon met the Shansi Moun- 
tains. 

It was a desolate country which I saw, for every wave 
in this vast land-sea was cut and slashed by the knives 
of wind and frost and rain, and lay in a chaotic mass of 
gaping wounds — canons, ravines, and gullies, painted 
in rainbow colors, crossing and cutting one another at 
fantastic angles as far as the eye could see. 

When, a few moments later, we reached the very sum- 
mit of the pass, I felt that no spot I had ever visited sat- 
isfied my preconceived conceptions quite so thoroughly. 
Behind and below us lay that stupendous relief map of 
ravines and gorges; in front was a limitless stretch of 
undulating plain. I knew then that I really stood upon 
the edge of the greatest plateau in all the world and 
that it could be only Mongolia. 

We had tiffin at a tiny Chinese inn beside the road, 
and trotted on toward Hei-ma-hou between waving 
fields of wheat, buckwheat, millet, and oats — oats as 
thick and "meaty" as any horse could wish to eat. 

After tiffin Coltman and Lucander rode rapidly ahead 



6 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

while I trotted my pony along more slowly in the rear. 
It was nearly seven o'clock, and the trees about the mis- 
sion station had been visible for half an hour. I was 
enjoying a gorgeous sunset which splashed the western 
sky with gold and red, and lazily watching the black 
silhouettes of a camel caravan swinging along the sum- 
mit of a ridge a mile away. On the road beside me a 
train of laden mules and bullock-carts rested for a mo- 
ment — the drivers half asleep. Over all the plain there, 
lay the peace of a perfect autumn evening. 

Suddenly, from behind a little rise, I heard the whir 
of a motor engine and the raucous voice of a Klaxon 
horn. Before I realized what it meant, I was in the 
midst of a mass of plunging, snorting animals, shouting 
carters, and kicking mules. In a moment the caravan 
scattered wildly across the plain and the road was clear 
save for the author of the turmoil — a black automobile. 

I wish I could make those who spend their lives within 
a city know how strange and out of place that motor 
seemed, alone there upon the open plain on the borders 
of Mongolia. Imagine a camel or an elephant with all 
its Oriental trappings suddenly appearing on Fifth 
Avenue! You would think at once that it had escaped 
from a circus or a zoo and would be mainly curious as 
to what the traffic policeman would do when it did not 
obey his signals. 

But all the incongruity and the fact that the automo- 
bile was a glaring anachronism did not prevent my 
abandoning my horse to the mafu and stretching out 
comfortably on the cushions of the rear seat. There I 



ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 7 

had nothing to do but collect the remains of my shat- 
tered dream-castles as we bounced over the ruts and 
stones. It was a rude awakening, and I felt half 
ashamed to admit to myself as the miles sped by that 
the springy seat was more comfortable than the saddle 
on my Mongol pony. 

But that night when I strolled about the mission 
courtyard, under the spell of the starry, desert sky, I 
drifted back again in thought to the glorious days of 
Kublai Khan. My heart was hot with resentment that 
this thing had come. I realized then that, for better or 
for worse, the sanctity of the desert was gone forever. 
Camels will still plod their silent way across the age-old 
plains, but the mystery is lost. The secrets which were 
yielded up to but a chosen few are open now to all, and 
the world and his wife will speed their noisy course across 
the miles of rolling prairie, hearing nothing, feeling 
nothing, knowing nothing of that resistless desert charm 
which led men out into the Great Unknown. 

At daylight we packed the cars. Bed-rolls and cans 
of gasoline were tied on the running boards and every 
corner was filled with food. Our rifles were ready for 
use, however, for Coltman had promised a kind of shoot- 
ing such as I had never seen before. The stories he told 
of wild rides in the car after strings of antelope which 
traveled at fifty or sixty miles an hour had left me mildly 
skeptical. But then, you know, I had never seen a Mon- 
golian antelope run. 

For twenty or thirty miles after leaving Hei-ma-hou 
we bounced along over a road which would have been 



8 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

splendid except for the deep ruts cut by mule- and ox- 
carts. These carts are the despair of any one who hopes 
some time to see good roads in China. The spike- 
studded wheels cut into the hardest ground and leave a 
chaos of ridges and chasms which grows worse with 
every year. 

We were seldom out of sight of mud-walled huts or 
tiny Chinese villages, and Chinese peddlers passed our 
cars, carrying baskets of fruit or trinkets for the women. 
Chinese farmers stopped to gaze at us as we bounded 
over the ruts — in fact it was all Chinese, although we 
were really in Mongolia. I was very eager to see Mon- 
gols, to register first impressions of a people of whom 
I had dreamed so much ; but the blue-clad Chinaman was 
ubiquitous. 

For seventy miles from Kalgan it was all the same — 
Chinese everywhere. The Great Wall was built to keep 
the Mongols out, and by the same token it should have 
kept the Chinese in. But the rolling, grassy sea of the 
vast plateau was too strong a temptation for the Chinese 
farmer. Encouraged by his own government, which 
knows the value of just such peaceful penetration, he 
pushes forward the line of cultivation a dozen miles or 
so every year. As a result the grassy hills have given 
place to fields of wheat, oats, millet, buckwheat, and 
potatoes. 

The Mongol, above all things, is not a farmer; pos- 
sibly because, many years ago, the Manchus forbade him 
to till the soil. Moreover, on the ground he is as awk- 
ward as a duck out of water and he is never comfortable. 



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ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 9 

The back of a pony is his real home, and he will do won- 
derfully well any work which keeps him in the saddle. 
As Mr. F. A. Larsen in Urga once said, "A Mongol 
would make a splendid cook if you could give him a 
horse to ride about on in the kitchen.' ' So he leaves to 
the plodding Chinaman the cultivation of his boundless 
plains, while he herds his fat-tailed sheep and goats and 
cattle. 

About two hours after leaving the mission station we 
passed the limit of cultivation and were riding toward 
the Tabool hills. There Mr. Larsen, the best known 
foreigner in all Mongolia, has a home, and as we 
swung past the trail which leads to his house we saw one 
of his great herds of horses grazing in the distance. 

All the land in this region has long, rich grass in 
summer, and water is by no means scarce. There are 
frequent wells and streams along the road, and in the 
distance we often caught a glint of silver from the sur- 
face of a pond or lake. Flocks of goats and fat-tailed 
sheep drifted up the valley, and now and then a herd 
of cattle massed themselves in moving patches on the 
hillsides. But they are only a fraction of the numbers 
which this land could easily support. 

Not far from Tabool is a Mongol village. I jumped 
out of the car to take a photograph but scrambled in 
again almost as quickly, for as soon as the motor had 
stopped a dozen dogs dashed from the houses snarling 
and barking like a pack of wolves. They are huge 
brutes, these Mongol dogs, and as fierce as they are big. 
Every family and every caravan owns one or more, and 



10 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

we learned very soon never to approach a native en- 
campment on foot. 

The village was as unlike a Chinese settlement as it 
well could be, for instead of closely packed mud houses 
there were circular, latticed frameworks covered with 
felt and cone-shaped in the upper half. The ywrt, as it 
is called, is perfectly adapted to the Mongols and their 
life. In the winter a stove is placed in the center, and 
the house is dry and warm. In the summer the felt 
covering is sometimes replaced by canvas which can be 
lifted on any side to allow free passage of air. When 
it is time for the semiannual migration to new grazing 
grounds the yurt can be quickly dismantled, the frame- 
work collapsed, and the house packed on camels or carts. 
The Mongols of the village were rather disappoint- 
ing, for many of them show a strong element of Chinese 
blood. This seems to have developed an unfortunate 
combination of the worst characteristics of both races. 
Even where there is no real mixture, their contact with 
the Chinese has been demoralizing, and they will rob and 
steal at every opportunity. The headdresses of the 
southern women are by no means as elaborate as those 
in the north. 

When the hills of Tabool had begun to sink on the 
horizon behind us, we entered upon a vast rolling plain, 
where there was but little water and not a sign of human 
life. It resembled nothing so much as the prairies of 
Nebraska or Dakota, and amid the short grass larkspur 
and purple thistles glowed in the sunlight like tongues 
of flame. 



ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 11 

There was no lack of birds. In the ponds which we 
passed earlier in the day we saw hundreds of mallard 
ducks and teal. The car often frightened golden plover 
from their dust baths in the road, and crested lapwings 
flashed across the prairie like sudden storms of autumn 
leaves. Huge, golden eagles and enormous ravens made 
tempting targets on the telegraph poles, and in the 
morning before we left the cultivated area we saw 
demoiselle cranes in thousands. 

In this land where wood is absent and everything 
that will make a fire is of value, I wondered how it hap- 
pened that the telegraph poles remained untouched, for 
every one was smooth and round without a splinter gone. 
The method of protection is simple and entirely Orien- 
tal. When the line was first erected, the Mongolian 
government stated in an edict that any man who touched 
a pole with knife or ax would lose his head. Even on 
the plains the enforcement of such a law is not so diffi- 
cult as it might seem, and after a few heads had been 
taken by way of example the safety of the line was as- 
sured. 

Our camp the first night was on a hill slope about one 
hundred miles from Hei-ma-hou. As soon as the cars 
had stopped, one man was left to untie the sleeping bags 
while the rest of us scattered over the plain to hunt ma- 
terial for a fire. Argul (dried dung) forms the only 
desert fuel and, although it does not blaze like wood, it 
will "boil a pot" almost as quickly as charcoal. I was 
elected to be the cook — a position with distinct advan- 



12 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

tages, for in the freezing cold of early morning I could 
linger about the fire with a good excuse. 

It was a perfect autumn night. Every star in the 
world of space seemed to have been crowded into our 
own particular expanse of sky, and each one glowed like 
a tiny lantern. When I had found a patch of sand and 
had dug a trench for my hip and shoulder, I crawled 
into the sleeping bag and lay for half an hour looking 
up at the bespangled canopy above my head. Again 
the magic of the desert night was in my blood, and I 
blessed the fate which had carried me away from the 
roar and rush of New York with its hurrying crowds. 
But I felt a pang of envy when, far away in the dis- 
tance, there came the mellow notes of a camel-bell. 
Dong, (long, dong it sounded, clear and sweet as cathe- 
dral chimes. With surging blood I listened until I 
caught the measured tread of padded feet, and saw the 
black silhouettes of rounded bodies and curving necks. 
Oh, to be with them, to travel as Marco Polo traveled, 
and to learn to know the heart of the desert in the long 
night marches! Before I closed my eyes that night I 
vowed that when the war was done and I was free to 
travel where I willed, I would come again to the desert 
as the great Venetian came. 






CHAPTER II 

SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 

The next morning, ten miles from camp, we passed 
a party of Russians en route to Kalgan. They were 
sitting disconsolately beside two huge cars, patching 
tires and tightening bolts. Their way had been marked 
by a succession of motor troubles and they were almost 
discouraged. Woe to the men who venture into the 
desert with an untried car and without a skilled me- 
chanic! There are no garages just around the corner — 
and there are no corners. Lucander's Chinese boy ex- 
pressed it with laconic completeness when some one 
asked him how he liked the country. 

"Well," said he, "there's plenty of room here." 
A short distance farther on we found the caravan 
which had passed us early in the night. They were 
camped beside a well and the thirsty camels were gorg- 
ing themselves with water. Except for these wells, the 
march across the desert would be impossible. They are 
four or five feet wide, walled with timbers, and partly 
roofed. In some the water is rather brackish but always 
cool, for it is seldom less than ten feet below the surface. 
It is useless to speculate as to who dug the wells or 
when, for this trail has been used for centuries. In some 

13 



U ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

regions they are fifty or even sixty miles apart, but usu- 
ally less than that. 

The camel caravans travel mostly at night. For all 
his size and apparent strength, a camel is a delicate ani- 
mal and needs careful handling. He cannot stand the 
heat of the midday sun and he will not graze at night. 
So the Gobi caravans start about three or four o'clock 
in the afternoon and march until one or two the next 
morning. Then the men pitch a light tent and the cam- 
els sleep or wander over the plain. 

At noon on the second day we reached Panj-kiang, 
the first telegraph station on the line. Its single mud 
house was visible miles away and we were glad to see it, 
for our gasoline was getting low. Coltman had sent a 
plentiful supply by caravan to await us here, and every 
available inch of space was filled with cans, for we were 
only one-quarter of the way to Urga. 

Not far beyond Panj-kiang, a lama monastery has 
been built beside the road. Its white-walled temple 
bordered with red and the compound enclosing the liv- 
ing quarters of the lamas show with startling distinctness 
on the open plain. We stopped for water at a well a 
few hundred yards away, and in five minutes the cars 
were surrounded by a picturesque group of lamas who 
streamed across the plain on foot and on horseback, their 
yellow and red robes flaming in the sun. They were 
amiable enough — in fact, too friendly — and their curi- 
osity was hardly welcome, for we found one of them test- 
ing his knife on the tires and another about to punch 



SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 15 

a hole in one of the gasoline cans ; he hoped it held some- 
thing to drink that was better than water. 

Thus far the trail had not been bad, as roads go in 
the Gobi, but I was assured that the next hundred miles 
would be a different story, for we were about to enter 
the most arid part of the desert between Kalgan and 
Urga. We were prepared for the only real work of the 
trip, however, by a taste of the exciting shooting which 
Coltman had promised me. 

I had been told that we should see antelope in thou- 
sands, but all day I had vainly searched the plains for 
a sign of game. Ten miles from Panj-kiang we were 
rolling comfortably along on a stretch of good road when 
Mrs. Coltman, whose eyes are as keen as those of a hawk, 
excitedly pointed to a knoll on the right, not a hundred 
yards from the trail. At first I saw nothing but yellow 
grass; then the whole hillside seemed to be in motion. 
A moment later I began to distinguish heads and legs 
and realized that I was looking at an enormous herd of 
antelope, closely packed together, restlessly watching 
us. 

Our rifles were out in an instant and Coltman opened 
the throttle. The antelope were five or six hundred 
yards away, and as the car leaped forward they ranged 
themselves in single file and strung out across the plain. 
We left the road at once and headed diagonally toward 
them. For some strange reason, when a horse or car 
runs parallel with a herd of antelope, the animals will 
swing in a complete semicircle and cross in front of the 
pursuer. This is also true of some African species. 



16 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Whether they think they are being cut off from some 
more desirable means of escape I cannot say, but the 
fact remains that with the open plain on every side they 
always try to "cross your bows." 

I shall never forget the sight of those magnificent ani- 
mals streaming across the desert! There were at least 
a thousand of them, and their yellow bodies seemed 
fairly to skim the earth. I was shouting in excitement, 
but Coltman said: 

"They're not running yet. Wait till we begin to 
shoot." 

I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the speed- 
ometer trembling at thirty-five miles, for we were mak- 
ing a poor showing with the antelope. But then the 
fatal attraction began to assert itself and the long col- 
umn bent gradually in our direction. Coltman widened 
the arc of the circle and held the throttle up as far as it 
would go. Our speed increased to forty miles and the 
car began to gain because the antelope were running 
almost across our course. 

They were about two hundred yards away when Colt- 
man shut off the gas and jammed both brakes, but be- 
fore the car had stopped they had gained another 
hundred. I leaped over a pile of bedding and came into 
action with the .250 Savage high-power as soon as my 
feet were on the ground. Coltman's .30 Mauser was 
already spitting fire from the front seat across the wind- 
shield, and at his second shot an antelope dropped like 
lead. My first two bullets struck the dirt far behind the 
rearmost animal, but the third caught a full-grown fe- 



SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT IT 

male in the side and she plunged forward into the grass. 

I realized then what Coltman meant when he said that 
the antelope had not begun to run. At the first shot 
every animal in the herd seemed to flatten itself and set- 
tle to its work. They did not run — they simply flew 
across the ground, their legs showing only as a blur. 
The one I killed was four hundred yards away, and I 
held four feet ahead when I pulled the trigger. They 
could not have been traveling less than fifty-five or sixty 
miles an hour, for they were running in a semicircle 
about the car while we were moving at forty miles in a 
straight line. 

Those are the facts in the case. I can see my readers 
raise their brows incredulously, for that is exactly what 
I would have done before this demonstration. Well, 
there is one way to prove it and that is to come and try 
it for yourselves. Moreover, I can see some sportsmen 
smile for another reason. I mentioned that the antelope 
I killed was four hundred yards away. I know how far 
it was, for I paced it off. I may say, in passing, that I 
had never before killed a running animal at that range. 
Ninety per cent of my shooting had been well within 
one hundred and fifty yards, but in Mongolia conditions 
are most extraordinary. 

In the brilliant atmosphere an antelope at four hun- 
dred yards appears as large as it would at one hundred 
in most other parts of the world ; and on the flat plains, 
where there is not a bush or a shrub to obscure the view, 
a tiny stone stands out like a golf ball on the putting 
green. Because of these conditions there is strong temp- 



18 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

tation to shoot at impossible ranges and to keep on shoot- 
ing when the game is beyond anything except a lucky 
chance. Therefore, if any of you go to Mongolia to 
hunt antelope take plenty of ammunition, and when you 
return you will never tell how many cartridges you used. 
Our antelope were tied on the running board of the car 
and we went back to the road where Lucander was wait- 
ing. Half the herd had crossed in front of him, but he 
had failed to bring down an animal. 

When the excitement was over I began to understand 
the significance of what we had seen. It was slowly 
borne in upon me that our car had been going, by the 
speedometer, at forty miles an hour and that the ante- 
lope were actually beating us. It was an amazing dis- 
covery, for I had never dreamed that any living animal 
could run so fast. It was a discovery, too, which would 
have important results, for Professor Henry Fairfield 
Osborn, president of the American Museum of Natural 
History, even then was carrying on investigations as to 
the relation of speed to limb structure in various groups 
of animals. I determined, with Mr. Coltman's help, to 
get some real facts in the case — data upon which we 
could rely. 

There was an opportunity only to begin the study on 
the first trip, but we carried it further the following 
year. Time after time, as we tore madly after antelope, 
singly or in herds, I kept my eyes upon the speedometer, 
and I feel confident that our observations can be relied 
upon. We demonstrated beyond a doubt that the Mon- 
golian antelope can reach a speed of from fifty-five to 



SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 19 

sixty miles an hour. This is probably the maximum 
which is attained only in the initial sprint and after a 
very short distance the animals must slow down to about 
forty miles; a short distance more and they drop to 
twenty-five or thirty miles, and at this pace they seem 
able to continue almost indefinitely. They never ran 
faster than was necessary to keep well away from us. 
As we opened the throttle of the car they, too, increased 
their speed. It was only when we began to shoot and 
they became thoroughly frightened that they showed 
what they could do. 

I remember especially one fine buck which gave us an 
exhibition of really high-class running. He started al- 
most opposite to us when we were on a stretch of splen- 
did road and jogged comfortably along at thirty-five 
miles an hour. Our car was running at the same speed, 
but he decided to cross in front and pressed his accelera- 
tor a little. Coltman also touched ours, and the motor 
jumped to forty miles. The antelope seemed very much 
surprised and gave his accelerator another push. Colt- 
man did likewise, and the speedometer registered forty- 
five miles. That was about enough for us, and we held 
our speed. The animal drew ahead on a long curve 
swinging across in front of the car. He had beaten us 
by a hundred yards ! 

But we had a surprise in store for him, for Coltman 
suddenly shut off the gas and threw on both brakes. 
Before the motor had fully stopped we opened fire. The 
first two bullets struck just behind the antelope and a 
third kicked the dust between his legs. The shock turned 



20 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

him half over, but he righted himself and ran to his very 
limit. The bullets spattering all about kept him at it 
for six hundred yards. He put up a desert hare on the 
way, but that hare didn't have a chance with the ante- 
lope. It reminded me of the story of the negro who had 
seen a ghost. He ran until he dropped beside the road, 
but the ghost was right beside him. "Well," said the 
ghost, "that was some race we had." "Yes," answered 
the negro, "but it ain't nothin' to what we're goin' to 
have soon's ever I git my breath. And then," said 
the negro, "we ran agin. And I come to a rabbit leggin' 
it up the road, and I said, 'Git out of the way, rabbit, 
and let some one run what can run !' " The last we saw 
of the antelope was a cloud of yellow dust disappearing 
over a low rise. 

The excitement of the chase had been an excellent 
preparation for the hard work which awaited us not far 
ahead. The going had been getting heavier with every 
mile, and at last we reached a long stretch of sandy road 
which the motors could not pull through. With every 
one except the driver out of the car, and the engine rac- 
ing, we pushed and lifted, gaining a few feet each time, 
until the shifting sand was passed. It meant two hours 
of violent strain, and we were well-nigh exhausted; a 
few miles farther, however, it had all to be done again. 
Where the ground was hard, there was such a chaos of 
ruts and holes that our arms were almost wrenched from 
their sockets by the twisting wheels. 

This area more nearly approaches a desert than any 
other part of the road to Urga. The soil is mainly 



SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 21 

sandy, but the Gobi sagebrush and short bunch grass, 
although sparse and dry, still give a covering of vege- 
tation, so that in the distance the plain appears like a 
rolling meadowland. 

When we saw our first northern Mongol I was de- 
lighted. Every one is a study for an artist. He dresses 
in a long, loose robe of plum color, one corner of which 
is usually tucked into a gorgeous sash. On his head is 
perched an extraordinary hat which looks like a saucer, 
with upturned edges of black velvet and a narrow cone- 
shaped crown of brilliant yellow. Two streamers of red 
ribbon are usually fastened to the rim at the back, or a 
plume of peacock feathers if he be of higher rank. 

On his feet he wears a pair of enormous leather boots 
with pointed toes. These are always many sizes too 
large, for as the weather grows colder he pads them out 
with heavy socks of wool or fur. It is nearly impossible 
for him to walk in this ungainly footgear, and he wad- 
dles along exactly like a duck. He is manifestly uncom- 
fortable and ill at ease, but put him on a horse and you 
have a different picture. The high-peaked saddle and 
the horse itself become a part of his anatomy and he 
will stay there happily fifteen hours of the day. 

The Mongols ride with short stirrups and, standing 
nearly upright, lean far over the horse's neck like our 
western cowboys. As they tear along at full gallop in 
their brilliant robes they seem to embody the very spirit 
of the plains. They are such genial, accommodating 
fellows, always ready with a pleasant smile, and willing 



22 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

to take a sporting chance on anything under the sun, 
that they won my heart at once. 

Above all things they love a race, and often one of 
them would range up beside the car and, with a radiant 
smile, make signs that he wished to test our speed. Then 
off he would go like mad, flogging his horse and yelling 
with delight. We would let him gain at first, and the 
expression of joy and triumph on his face was worth 
going far to see. Sometimes, if the road was heavy, it 
would need every ounce of gas the car could take to 
forge ahead, for the ponies are splendid animals. The 
Mongols ride only the best and ride them hard, since 
horses are cheap in Mongolia, and when one is a little 
worn another is always ready. 

Not only does the Mongol inspire you with admira- 
tion for his full-blooded, virile manhood, but also you 
like him because he likes you. He doesn't try to disguise 
the fact. There is a frank openness about his attitude 
which is wonderfully appealing, and I believe that the 
average white man can get on terms of easy familiarity, 
and even intimacy, with Mongols more rapidly than 
with any other Orientals. 

Ude is the second telegraph station on the road to 
Urga. It has the honor of appearing on most maps of 
Mongolia and yet it is even less impressive than Panj- 
kiang. There are only two mud houses and half a dozen 
yurts which seem to have been dropped carelessly behind 
a ragged hill. 

After leaving Ude, we slipped rapidly up and down 
a succession of low hills and entered upon a plain so 



SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 23 

vast and flat that we appeared to be looking across an 
ocean. Not the smallest hill or rise of ground broke the 
line where earth and sky met in a faint blue haze. Our 
cars seemed like tiny boats in a limitless, grassy sea. It 
was sixty miles across, and for three hours the steady 
hum of the motor hardly ceased, for the road was smooth 
and hard. Halfway over we saw another great herd of 
antelope and several groups of ten or twelve. These 
were a different species from those we had killed, and I 
got a fine young buck. Twice wolves trotted across the 
plain, and at one, which was very inquisitive, I did some 
shooting which I vainly try to forget. 

But most interesting to me among the wild life along 
our way was the bustard. It is a huge bird, weighing 
from fifteen to forty pounds, with flesh of such delicate 
flavor that it rivals our best turkey. I had always 
wanted to kill a bustard and my first one was neatly 
eviscerated at two hundred yards by a Savage bullet. 
I was more pleased than if I had shot an antelope, per- 
haps because it did much to revive my spirits after the 
episode of the wolf. 

Sand grouse, beautiful little gray birds, with wings 
like pigeons and remarkable, padded feet, whistled over 
us as we rolled along the road, and my heart was sick 
with the thought of the excellent shooting we were miss- 
ing. But there was no time to stop, except for such 
game as actually crossed our path, else we should never 
have arrived at Urga, the City of the Living God. 

Speaking of gods, I must not forget to mention the 
great lamasery at Turin, about one hundred and seventy 



M ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

miles from Urga. For hours before we reached it we 
saw the ragged hills standing sharp and clear against 
the sky line. The peaks themselves are not more than 
two hundred feet in height, but they rise from a rocky 
plateau some distance above the level of the plain. It 
is a wild spot where some mighty internal force has burst 
the surface of the earth and pushed up a ragged core of 
rocks which have been carved by the knives of weather 
into weird, fantastic shapes. This elemental battle 
ground is a fit setting for the most remarkable group of 
human habitations that I have ever seen. 

Three temples lie in a bowl-shaped hollow, surrounded 
by hundreds upon hundreds of tiny pill-box dwellings 
painted red and white. There must be a thousand of 
them and probably twice as many lamas. On the out- 
skirts of the "city" to the south enormous piles of argul 
have been collected by the priests and bestowed as votive 
offerings by devout travelers. Vast as the supply 
seemed, it would take all this, and more, to warm the 
houses of the lamas during the bitter winter months 
when the ground is covered with snow. On the north 
the hills throw protecting arms about the homes of these 
half -wild men, who have chosen to spend their lives in 
this lonely desert stronghold. The houses are built of 
sawn boards, the first indication we had seen that we 
were nearing a forest country. 

The remaining one hundred and seventy miles to 
Urga are a delight, even to the motorist who loves the 
paved roads of cities. They are like a boulevard amid 
glorious, rolling hills luxuriant with long, sweet grass. 









SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 25 

In the distance herds of horses and cattle grouped them- 
selves into moving patches, and fat-tailed sheep dotted 
the plain like drifts of snow. I have seldom seen a bet- 
ter grazing country. It needed but little imagination to 
picture what it will be a few years hence when the inevi- 
table railroad claims the desert as its own, for this rich 
land cannot long remain untenanted. It was here that 
we saw the first marmots, an unfailing indication that 
we were in a northern country. 

The thick blackness of a rainy night had enveloped us 
long before we swung into the Urga Valley and groped 
our way along the Tola River bank toward the glim- 
mering lights of the sacred city. It seemed that we 
would never reach them, for twice we took the wrong 
turn and found ourselves in a maze of sandy bottoms 
and half -grown trees. But at ten o'clock we plowed 
through the mud of a narrow street and into the court- 
yard of the Mongolian Trading Company's home. 

Oscar Mamen, Coltman's former partner, and Mrs. 
Mamen had spent several years there, and for six weeks 
they had had as guests Messrs. A. M. Guptil and E. B. 
Price, of Peking. Mr. Guptil was representing the 
American Military Attache, and Mr. Price, Assistant 
Chinese Secretary of the American Legation, had come 
to Urga to establish communication with our consul at 
Irkutsk who had not been heard from for more than a 
month. 

Urga recently had been pregnant with war possibili- 
ties. In the Lake Baikal region of Siberia there were 
several thousand Magyars and many Bolsheviki. It was 



26 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

known that Czechs expected to attack them, and that 
they would certainly be driven across the borders into 
Mongolia if defeated. In that event what would be 
the attitude of the Mongolian government? Would it 
intern the belligerents, or allow them to use the Urga 
district as a base of operations? 

As a matter of fact, the question had been settled just 
before my arrival. The Czechs had made the expected 
attack with about five hundred men; all the Magyars, 
to the number of several thousand, had surrendered, and 
the Bolsheviki had disappeared like mists before the sun. 
The front of operations had moved in a single night 
almost two thousand miles away to the Omsk district, 
and it was certain that Mongolia would be left in peace. 
Mr. Price's work also was done, for the telegraph from 
Urga to Irkutsk was again in operation and thus com- 
munication was established with Peking. 

The morning after my arrival Mr. Guptil and I rode 
out to see the town. Never have I visited such a city of 
contrasts, or one to which I was so eager to return. As 
we did come back, I shall tell, in a future chapter, of 
what we found there. 



CHAPTER III 

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 

This is a "hard luck" chapter. Stories of ill-fortune 
are not always interesting, but I am writing this one to 
show what can happen to an automobile in the Gobi. 
We had gone to Urga without even a puncture and I 
began to feel that motoring in Mongolia was as simple 
as riding on Fifth Avenue — more so, in fact, for we did 
not have to watch traffic policemen or worry about 
"right of way." There is no crowding on the Gobi 
Desert. When we passed a camel caravan or a train of 
oxcarts we were sure to have plenty of room, for the 
landscape was usually spotted in every direction with 
fleeing animals. 

Our motors had "purred" so steadily that accidents 
and repair shops seemed very far away and not of much 
importance. On the return trip, however, the reverse of 
the picture was presented and I learned that to be alone 
in the desert when something is wrong with the digestion 
of your automobile can have its serious aspects. Unless 
you are an expert mechanic and have an assortment of 
"spare parts," you may have to walk thirty or forty 
miles to the nearest water and spend many days of wait- 
ing until help arrives. 

Fortunately for us, there are few things which either 

27 



28 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Coltman or Guptil do not know about the "insides" of 
a motor and, moreover, after a diagnosis, they both have 
the ingenuity to remedy almost any trouble with a ham- 
mer and a screw driver. 

Four days after our arrival in Urga we left on the 
return trip. As occupants of his car Charles Coltman 
had Mr. Price, Mrs. Coltman, and Mrs. Mamen. With 
the spiritual and physical assistance of Mr. Guptil I 
drove the second automobile, carrying in the rear seat 
a wounded Russian Cossack and a French-Czech, both 
couriers. The third car was a Ford chassis to which a 
wooden body had been affixed. It was designed to give 
increased carrying space, but it looked like a half-grown 
hayrack and was appropriately called the "agony box." 
This was driven by a chauffeur named Wang and car- 
ried Mamen's Chinese house boy and an amah besides a 
miscellaneous assortment of baggage. 

It was a cold, gray morning when we started, with a 
cutting wind sweeping down from the north, giving a 
hint of the bitter winter which in another month would 
hold all Mongolia in an icy grasp. We made our way 
eastward up the valley to the Russian bridge across the 
Tola River and pointed the cars southward on the cara- 
van trail to Kalgan. 

Just as we reached the summit of the second long hill, 
across which the wind was sweeping in a glacial blast, 
there came a rasping crash somewhere in the motor of 
my car, followed by a steady knock, knock, knock. 
"That's a connecting rod as sure as fate," said "Gup." 
"We'll have to stop." When he had crawled under the 



A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 29 

car and found that his diagnosis was correct, he said 
a few other things which ought to have relieved his mind 
considerably. 

There was nothing to be done except to replace the 
broken part with a spare rod. For three freezing hours 
Gup and Coltman lay upon their backs under the car, 
while the rest of us gave what help we could. To add 
to the difficulties a shower of hail swept down upon us 
with all the fury of a Mongolian storm. It was three 
o'clock in the afternoon before we were ready to go on, 
and our camp that night was only sixty miles from Urga. 

The next day as we passed Turin the Czech pointed 
out the spot where he had lain for three days and nights 
with a broken collar bone and a dislocated shoulder. He 
had come from Irkutsk carrying important dispatches 
and had taken passage in an automobile belonging to a 
Chinese company which with difficulty was maintaining 
a passenger service between Urga and Kalgan. As 
usual, the native chauffeur was dashing along at thirty- 
five miles an hour when he should not have driven faster 
than twenty at the most. One of the front wheels slid 
into a deep rut, the car turned completely over and the 
resulting casualties numbered one man dead and our 
Czech seriously injured. It was three days before an- 
other car carried him back to Urga, where the broken 
bones were badly set by a drunken Russian doctor. The 
Cossack, too, had been shot twice in the heavy fighting 
on the Russian front, and, although his wounds were 
barely healed, he had just ridden three hundred miles 
on horseback with dispatches for Peking. 



30 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Both my passengers were delighted to have escaped 
the Chinese motors, for in them accidents had been the 
rule rather than the exception. During one year nine- 
teen cars had been smashed and lay in masses of twisted 
metal beside the road. The difficulty had been largely 
due to the native chauffeurs. Although these men can 
drive a car, they have no mechanical training and danger 
signals from the motor are entirely disregarded. More- 
over, all Chinese dearly love "show" and the chauffeurs 
delight in driving at tremendous speed over roads where 
they should exercise the greatest care. The deep cart 
ruts are a continual menace, for between them the road 
is often smooth and fine. But a stone or a tuft of grass 
may send one of the front wheels into a rut and capsize 
the car. Even with the greatest care accidents will hap- 
pen, and motoring in Mongolia is by no means devoid of 
danger and excitement. 

About three o'clock in the afternoon of the second day 
we saw frantic signals from the agony box which had 
been lumbering along behind us. It appeared that the 
right rear wheel was broken and the car could go no 
farther. There was nothing for it but to camp right 
where we were while Charles repaired the wheel. 
Gup and I ran twenty miles down the road to look 
for a well, but without success. The remaining water 
was divided equally among us but next morning we dis- 
covered that the Chinese had secreted two extra bottles 
for themselves, while we had been saving ours to the last 
drop. It taught me a lesson by which I profited the fol- 
lowing summer. 



A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 31 

On the third day the agony box limped along until 
noon, but when we reached a well in the midst of the 
great plain south of Turin it had to be abandoned, while 
we went on to Ude, the telegraph station in the middle 
of the desert, and wired Mamen to bring a spare wheel 
from Urga. 

The fourth day there was more trouble with the con- 
necting rod on my car and we sat for two hours at a 
well while the motor was eviscerated and reassembled. 
It had ceased to be a joke, especially to Coltman 
and Guptil, for all the work fell upon them. By this 
time they were almost unrecognizable because of dirt 
and grease and their hands were cut and blistered. But 
they stood it manfully, and at each new accident Gup 
rose to greater and greater heights of oratory. 

We were halfway between Ude and Pan j -kiang when 
we saw two automobiles approaching from the south. 
Their occupants were foreigners we were sure, and as 
they stopped beside us a tall young man came up to my 
car. "I am Langdon Warner," he said. We shook 
hands and looked at each other curiously. Warner is 
an archaeologist and Director of the Pennsylvania Mu- 
seum. For ten years we had played a game of hide and 
seek through half the countries of the Orient and it 
seemed that we were destined never to meet each other. 
In 1910 I drifted into the quaint little town of Naha 
in the Loo-Choo Islands, that forgotten kingdom of the 
East. At that time it was far off the beaten track and 
very few foreigners had sought it out since 1854, when 
Commodore Perry negotiated a treaty with its king in 



32 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

the picturesque old Shuri Palace. Only a few months 
before I arrived, Langdon Warner had visited it on a 
collecting trip and the natives had not yet ceased to talk 
about the strange foreigner who gave them new baskets 
for old ones. 

A little later Warner preceded me to Japan, and in 
1912 I followed him to Korea. Our paths diverged 
when I went to Alaska in 1913, but I crossed his trail 
again in China, and in 1916, just before my wife and I 
left for Yun-nan, I missed him in Boston where I had 
gone to lecture at Harvard University. It was strange 
that after ten years we should meet for the first time in 
the middle of the Gobi Desert! 

Warner was proceeding to Urga with two Czech offi- 
cers who were on their way to Irkutsk. We gave them 
the latest news of the war situation and much to their 
disgust they realized that had they waited only two 
weeks longer they could have gone by train, for the at- 
tack by the Czechs on the Magyars and the Bolsheviki, 
in the trans-Baikal region, had cleared the Siberian rail- 
way westward as far as Omsk. After half an hour's 
talk we drove off in opposite directions. Warner event- 
ually reached Irkutsk, but not without some interesting 
experiences with Bolsheviki along the way, and I did 
not see him again until last March ( 1920) , when he came 
to my office in the American Museum just after we had 
returned to New York. 

When we reached Panj-kiang we felt that our motor 
troubles were at an end, but ten miles beyond the station 
my car refused to pull through a sand pit and we found 



A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 33 

that there was trouble with the differential. It was 
necessary to dismantle the rear end of the car, and Colt- 
man and Gup were well-nigh discouraged. The delay- 
was a serious matter for I had urgent business in Japan, 
and it was imperative that I reach Peking as soon as 
possible. Charles finally decided to send me, together 
with Price, the Czech, and the Cossack, in his car, while 
he and Gup remained with the two ladies to repair 
mine. 

Price and I drove back to Panj-kiang to obtain extra 
food and water for the working party and to telegraph 
Kalgan for assistance. We took only a little tea, maca- 
roni, and two tins of sausage, for we expected to reach 
the mission station at Hei-ma-hou early the next 
morning. 

We were hardly five miles from the broken car when 
we discovered that there was no more oil for our motor. 
It was impossible to go much farther and we decided 
that the only alternative was to wait until the relief 
party, for which we had wired, arrived from Kalgan. 
Just then the car swung over the summit of a rise, and 
we saw the white tent and grazing camels of an enor- 
mous caravan. Of course, Mongols would have mutton 
fat and why not use that for oil! The caravan leader 
assured us that he had fat in plenty and in ten minutes 
a great pot of it was warming over the fire. 

We poured it into the motor and proceeded merrily 
on our way. But there was one serious obstacle to our 
enjoyment of that ride. Events had been moving so 
rapidly that we had eaten nothing since breakfast, and 



34 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

when a delicious odor of roast lamb began to arise from 
the motor, we realized that we were all very hungry. 
Dry macaroni would hardly do and the sausage must be 
saved for dinner. All the afternoon that tantalizing 
odor hovered in the air and I began to imagine that I 
could even smell mint sauce. 

At six o'clock we saw the first yurt and purchased a 
supply of argul so that we could save time in making 
camp. The lamps of the car were hors de combat and 
a watery moon did not give us sufficient light by which 
to drive in safety, so we stopped on a hilltop shortly 
after dark. In the morning when the motor was cold 
we could save time and strength in cranking by push- 
ing it down the slope. 

Much to our disgust we found that the argul we had 
purchased from the Mongol was so mixed with dirt that 
it would not burn. After half an hour of fruitless work 
I gave up, and we divided the tin of cold sausage. It 
was a pretty meager dinner for four hungry men and I 
retired into my sleeping bag to dream of roast lamb and 
mint sauce. When the Cossack officer found that he 
was not to have his tea he was like a child with a stick 
of candy just out of reach. He tried to sleep but it was 
no use, and in half an hour I opened my eyes to see him 
flat on his face blowing lustily at a piece of argul which 
he had persuaded to emit a faint glow. For two mortal 
hours the Russian nursed that fire until his pot of water 
reached the boiling point. Then he insisted that we all 
wake up to share his triumph. 

We reached the mission station at noon next day, and 




J 




A MONGOLIAN AXTELOPE KILLED FROM OUR MOTOR CAR 




WATERING CAMELS AT A WELL IX THE GOBI DESERT 



A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 35 

Father Weinz, the Belgian priest in charge, gave us the 
first meal we had had in thirty-six hours. The Czech 
courier decided to remain at Hei-ma-hou and go in next 
day by cart, but we started immediately on the forty- 
mile horseback ride to Kalgan. A steady rain began 
about two o'clock in the afternoon, and in half an hour 
we were soaked to the skin; then the ugly, little gray 
stallion upon which I had been mounted planted both 
hind feet squarely on my left leg as we toiled up a long 
hill-trail to the pass, and I thought that my walking days 
had ended for all time. At the foot of the pass we 
halted at a dirty inn where they told us it would be use- 
less to go on to Kalgan, for the gates of the city would 
certainly be closed and it would be impossible to enter 
until morning. There was no alternative except to 
spend the night at the inn, but as they had only a grass 
fire which burned out as soon as the cooking was 
finished, and as all our clothes were soaked, we spent 
sleepless hours shivering with cold. 

The Cossack spoke only Mongol and Russian, and, 
as neither of us knew a single word of either language, 
it was difficult to communicate our plans to him. Fi- 
nally, we found a Chinaman who spoke Mongol and 
who consented to act as interpreter. The natives at the 
inn could not understand why we were not able to talk 
to the Cossack. ■ Didn't all white men speak the same 
language? Mr. Price endeavored to explain that Rus- 
sian and English differ as much as do Chinese and 
Mongol, but they only smiled and shook their heads. 

In the morning I was so stiff from the kick which the 



36 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

gray stallion had given me that I could get to his back 
only with the greatest difficulty, but we reached Kalgan 
at eight o'clock. Unfortunately, the Cossack had left 
his passport in the cart which was to follow with his 
baggage, and the police at the gate would not let us 
pass. Mr. Price was well known to them and offered 
to assume responsibility for the Cossack in the name 
of the American Legation, but the policemen, who 
were much disgruntled at being roused so early in the 
morning, refused to let us enter. 

Their attitude was so obviously absurd that we agreed 
to take matters into our own hands. We strolled out- 
side the house and suddenly jumped on our horses. 
The sentries made a vain attempt to catch our bridle 
reins and we rode down the street at a sharp trot. 
There was another police station in the center of the 
city which it was impossible to avoid and as we ap- 
proached it we saw a line of soldiers drawn up across 
the road. Our friends at the gate had telephoned ahead 
to have us stopped. Without hesitating we kept on, 
riding straight at the gray-clad policemen. With 
wildly waving arms they shouted at us to halt, but we 
paid not the slightest attention, and they had to jump 
aside to avoid being run down. The spectacle which 
these Chinese soldiers presented, as they tried to arrest 
us, was so ridiculous that we roared with laughter. 
Imagine what would happen on Fifth Avenue if you 
disregarded a traffic policeman's signal to stop! 

Although the officials knew that we could be found 
at Mr. Coltman's house, we heard nothing further from 



A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 37 

the incident. It was so obviously a matter of personal 
ill nature on the part of the captain in charge of the 
gate police that they realized it was not a subject for 
further discussion. 

After the luxury of a bath and shave we proceeded 
to Peking. Charles and Gup had rather a beastly 
time getting in. The car could not be repaired suffi- 
ciently to carry on under its own power, and, through 
a misunderstanding, the relief party only went as far 
as the pass and waited there for their arrival. They 
eventually found it necessary to hire three horses to 
tow them to the mission station where the "hard luck" 
story ended. 



CHAPTER IV 

NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 

The winter of 1918-19 we spent in and out of one 
of the most interesting cities in the world. Peking, 
with its background of history made vividly real by 
its splendid walls, its age-old temples and its mysteri- 
ous Forbidden City, has a personality of its own. 

When we had been away for a month or two there 
was always a delightful feeling of anticipation in re- 
turning to the city itself and to our friends in its cos- 
mopolitan community. 

Moreover, at our house in Wu Liang Taj en Hutung, 
a baby boy and his devoted nurse were waiting to re- 
ceive us. Even at two years the extraordinary facility 
with which he discovered frogs and bugs, which, quite 
unknown to us, dwelt in the flower-filled courtyard, 
showed the hereditary instincts of a born explorer. 

That winter gave us an opportunity to see much of 
ancient China, for we visited Shantung, traveled 
straight across the Provinces of Honan and Hupeh, 
and wandered about the mountains of Che-kiang on a 
serow hunt. 

In February the equipment for our summer's work 
in Mongolia was on its way across the desert by cara- 
van. We had sent flour, bacon, coffee, tea, sugar, but- 

38 



NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 89 

ter and dried fruit, for these could be purchased in 
Urga only at prohibitive prices. Even then, with 
camel charges at fourteen cents a cattle (1% lbs.), a 
fifty-pound sack of flour cost us more than six dollars 
by the time it reached Urga. 

Charles Coltman at Kalgan very kindly relieved me 
of all the transportation details. We had seen him 
several times in Peking during the winter, and had 
planned the trip across the plains to Urga as une belle 
excursion. 

Mrs. Coltman was going, of course, as were Mr. and 
Mrs. "Ted" MacCallie of Tientsin. "Mac" was a fa- 
mous Cornell football star whom I knew by reputation 
in my own college days. He was to take a complete 
Delco electric lighting plant to Urga, with the hope 
of installing it in the palace of the "Living God." 

A soldier named Owen from the Legation guard 
in Peking was to drive the Delco car, and I had two 
Chinese taxidermists, Chen and Kang, besides Lu, our 
cook and camp boy. 

Chen had been loaned to me by Dr. J. G. Andersson, 
Mining Adviser to the Chinese Republic, and proved 
to be one of the best native collectors whom I have ever 
employed. The Coltmans and MacCallies were to stay 
only a few days in Urga, but they helped to make the 
trip across Mongolia one of the most delightful parts 
of our glorious summer. 

We left Kalgan on May 17. Mac, Owen, and I rode 
the forty miles to Hei-ma-hou on horseback while 
Charles drove a motor occupied by the three women. 



40 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

There is a circuitous route by which cars can cross the 
pass under their own power, but Coltman preferred the 
direct road and sent four mules to tow the automobile 
up the mountains to the edge of the plateau. 

It was the same trail I had followed the previous 
September. Then, as I stood on the summit of the 
pass gazing back across the far, dim hills, my heart 
was sad for I was about to enter a new land alone. 
My "best assistant" was on the ocean coming as fast as 
steam could carry her to join me in Peking. I won- 
dered if Fate's decree would bring us here together that 
we might both have, as a precious heritage for future 
years, the memories of this strange land of romance 
and of mystery. Now the dream had been fulfilled and 
never have I entered a new country with greater hopes 
of what it would bring to me. Never, too, have such 
hopes been more gloriously realized. 

We packed the cars that night and at half past five 
the next morning were on the road. The sky was gray 
and cloud-hung, but by ten o'clock the sun burned out 
and we gradually emerged from the fur robes in which 
we had been buried. 

Instead of the fields of ripening grain which in the 
previous autumn had spread the hills with a flowing 
golden carpet, we saw blue-clad Chinese farmers turn- 
ing long brown furrows with homemade plows. The 
trees about the mission station had just begun to show^ 
a tinge of green — the first sign of awakening at the v v 
touch of spring from the long winter sleep. Already \ 
caravans were astir, and we passed lines of laden camels 






NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 41 

now almost at the end of the long journey from Outer 
Mongolia, whither we were bound. But, instead of 
splendid beasts with upstanding humps and full neck 
beards, the camels now were pathetic mountains of al- 
most naked skin on which the winter hair hung in ragged 
patches. The humps were loose and flat and flapped 
disconsolately as the great bodies lurched along the 
trail. 

When we passed one caravan a debonnaire old Mon- 
gol wearing a derby hat swung out of line and 
signaled us to stop. After an appraising glance at 
the car he smiled broadly and indicated that he would 
like to race. In a moment he was off yelling at the top 
of his lungs and belaboring the bony sides of his camel 
with feet and hands. The animal's ungainly legs 
swung like a windmill in every direction it seemed, ex- 
cept forward, and yet the Mongol managed to keep his 
rolling old "ship of the desert" abreast of us for sev- 
eral minutes. Finally we let him win the race, and 
his look of delight was worth going far to see as he 
waved us good-by and with a hearty "sai-bei-nah" loped 
slowly back to the caravan. 

The road was much better than it had been the pre- 
vious fall. During the winter the constant tramp of 
padded feet had worn down and filled the ruts which 
had been cut by the summer traffic of spike-wheeled 
carts. But the camels had almost finished their winter's 
work. In a few weeks they would leave the trail to ox 
and pony caravans and spend the hot months in idle- 



42 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

ness, storing quantities of fat in their great hump res- 
ervoirs. 

There was even more bird life than I had seen the 
previous September. The geese had ail flown north- 
ward where we would find them scattered over their 
summer breeding grounds, but thousands of demoiselle 
cranes (Anthropoides virgo) had taken their places in 
the fields. They were in the midst of the spring court- 
ing and seemed to have lost all fear. One pair re- 
mained beside the road until we were less than twenty- 
feet away, stepping daintily aside only when we threat- 
ened to run them down. Another splendid male per- 
formed a love dance for the benefit of his prospective 
bride quite undisturbed by the presence of our cars. 
With half-spread wings he whirled and leaped about 
the lady while every feather on her slim, blue body ex- 
pressed infinite boredom and indifference to his pas- 
sionate appeal. 

Ruddy sheldrakes, mallards, shoveler ducks, and teal 
were in even the smallest ponds and avocets with sky- 
blue legs and slender recurved bills ran along the shores 
of a lake at which we stopped for tiffin. When we 
had passed the last Chinese village and were well in 
the Mongolian grasslands we had great fun shooting 
gophers (Citellus mongolicus urnbratus) from the cars. 
It was by no means easy to kill them before they slipped 
into their dens, and I often had to burrow like a ter- 
rier to pull them out even when they were almost dead. 
We got eighteen, and camped at half past four in 
order that the taxidermists might have time to prepare 



NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 43 

the skins. There was a hint of rain in the air and we 
pitched the tent for emergencies, although none of us 
wished to sleep inside. Mac suggested that we util- 
ize the electric light plant even if we were on the 
Mongolian plains. In half an hour he had installed 
wires in the tent and placed an arc lamp on the summit 
of a pole. It was an extraordinary experience to see 
the canvas walls about us, to hear the mournful wail of 
a lone wolf outside, and yet be able to turn the switch 
of an electric light as though we were in the city. No 
arc lamp on Fifth Avenue blazed more brightly than 
did this one on the edge of the Gobi Desert where none 
of its kind had ever shone before. With the motor 
cars which had stolen the sanctity of the plains it was 
only another evidence of the passing of Mongolian mys- 
tery. 

Usually when we camped we could see, almost imme- 
diately, the silhouettes of approaching Mongols black 
against the evening sky. Where they came from we 
could never guess. For miles there might not have 
been the trace of a human being, but suddenly they 
would appear as though from out the earth itself. Per- 
haps they had been riding along some distant ridge 
far beyond the range of white men's eyes, or the roar 
of a motor had carried to their ears across the miles of 
plain; or perhaps it was that unknown sense, which 
seems to have been developed in these children of the 
desert, which directs them unerringly to water, to a lost 
horse, or to others of their kind. Be it what it may, 



44 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

almost every night the Mongols came loping into camp 
on their hardy, little ponies. 

But this evening, when we had prepared an especial 
celebration, the audience did not arrive. It was a bit- 
ter disappointment, for we were consumed with curi- 
osity to know what effect the blazing arc would have 
upon the Mongolian stoics. We could not believe that 
natives had not seen the light but probably they 
thought it was some spirit manifestation which was to 
be avoided. An hour after we were snuggled in our 
fur sleeping bags, two Mongols rode into camp, but 
we were too sleepy to give an exhibition of the fire- 
works. 

We reached Panj-kiang about noon of the second 
day and found that a large mud house and a spacious 
compound had been erected beside the telegraph sta- 
tion by the Chinese company which was endeavoring 
to maintain a passenger service between Kalgan and 
Urga. The Chinese government also had invaded the 
field and was sending automobiles regularly to the 
Mongolian capital as a branch service of the Peking- 
Suiyuan railroad. In the previous September we had 
passed half a dozen of their motors in charge of a for- 
eign representative of Messrs. Jardine, Matheson and 
Co. of Shanghai from whom the cars were purchased. 
He discovered immediately that the difficulties which 
the Chinese had encountered were largely the result of 
incompetent chauffeurs. 

We had kept a sharp lookout for antelope, but saw 
nothing except a fox which looked so huge in the clear 



NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 45 

air that all of us were certain it was a wolf. There 
are always antelope on the Panj-kiang plain, however, 
and we loaded the magazines of our rifles as soon as 
we left the telegraph station. I was having a bit of 
sport with an immense flock of golden plover (Pluvialis 
dominions fulvus) when the people in the cars signaled 
me to return, for a fine antelope buck was standing 
only a few hundred yards from the road. The ground 
was as smooth and hard as an asphalt pavement and 
we skimmed along at forty miles an hour. When the 
animal had definitely made up its mind to cross in front 
of us, Charles gave the accelerator a real push and the 
car jumped to a speed of forty-eight miles. The an- 
telope was doing his level best to "cross our bows" but 
he was too far away, and for a few moments it seemed 
that we would surely crash into him if he held his course. 
It was a great race. Yvette had a death grip on my 
coat, for I was sitting half over the edge of the car 
ready to jump when Charles threw on the brakes. 
With any one but Coltman at the wheel I would have 
been too nervous to enjoy the ride, but we all had con- 
fidence in his superb driving. 

The buck crossed the road not forty yards in front 
of us, just at the summit of a tiny hill. Charles and 
I both fired once, and the antelope turned half over in 
a whirl of dust. It disappeared behind the hill crest 
and we expected to find it dead on the other side, but 
the slope was empty and even with our glasses we could 
not discover a sign of life on the plain, which stretched 
away to the horizon apparently as level as a floor. It 



46 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

had been swallowed utterly as though by the magic 
pocket of a conjurer. 

Mac had not participated in the fun, for it had 
been a one-man race. Fifteen minutes later, however, 
we had a "free for all" which gave him his initiation. 

An extract from Yvette's "Journal" gives her im- 
pression of the chase: 

"Some one pointed out the distant, moving specks 
on the horizon and in a moment our car had left the 
road and started over the plains. Nearer and nearer 
we came, and faster and faster ran the antelope string- 
ing out in a long, yellow line before us. The speedome- 
ter was moving up and up, thirty miles, thirty-five 
miles. Roy was sitting on the edge of the car with his 
legs hanging out, rifle in hand, ready to swing to the 
ground as soon as the car halted. Mr. Coltman, who 
was driving, had already thrown on the brakes, but 
Roy, thinking in his excitement that he had stopped, 
jumped — and jumped too soon. The speed at which 
we were going threw him violently to the ground. I 
hardly dared look to see what had happened but some- 
how he turned a complete somersault, landed on his 
knees, and instantly began shooting. Mr. Coltman, his 
hands trembling with the exertion of the drive, opened 
fire across the wind shield. As the first reports crashed 
out, the antelope, which had seemed to be flying before, 
flattened out and literally skimmed over the plain. 
Half a dozen bullets struck behind the herd, then as 
Roy's rifle cracked again, one of those tiny specks 
dropped to the ground. 



NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 47 

"It was a wonderful shot — four hundred and twenty 
yards measured distance. No, this isn't a woman's in- 
accuracy of figures, it's a fact. But then you must re- 
member the extraordinary clearness of the air in Mon- 
golia, where every object appears to be magnified half 
a dozen times. The brilliant atmosphere is one of the 
most bewildering things of the desert. Once we 
thought we saw an antelope grazing on the hillside 
and Mr. Coltman remarked disdainfully: 'Pooh, that's 
a horse.' But the laugh was on him for as we drew 
near the 'horse' proved to be only a bleached bone. At 
a short distance camels and ponies stood out as though 
cut in steel, seeming as high as a village church steeple ; 
and, most ridiculous of all, my husband mistook me 
once at a long, long distance for a telegraph pole! 
Tartarin de Tarascon would have had some wonderful 
stories to tell of Mongolia!" 

We had hardly reached the road again before Mrs. 
Coltman discovered a great herd of antelope on the 
slope of a low hill, and when the cars carried us over 
the crest we could see animals in every direction, feed- 
ing in pairs or in groups of ten to forty. 

We all agreed that no better place could be found 
at which to obtain motion pictures and camp was made 
forthwith. Unfortunately, the gazelles were shedding 
their winter coats and the skins were useless except for 
study; however, I did need half a dozen skeletons, so 
the animals we killed would not be wasted. 

It was four o'clock in the afternoon when the tents 
were up and too late to take pictures; therefore, the 



48 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

photography was postponed until the next day, and 
we ran over toward a herd of antelope which was 
just visible on the sky line. When each of us had killed 
an animal, the opinion was unanimous that we had 
enough. I got mine on the first chase and thenceforth 
employed my time in making observations on the an- 
telope's speed. 

Time after time the car reached forty miles an hour, 
but with an even start the gazelles could swing about 
in front and "cross our bows." One of the antelope 
had a front leg broken just below the knee, and gave 
us a hard chase with the car going at thirty-five miles 
an hour. I estimated that even in its crippled condi- 
tion the animal was traveling at a rate of not less than 
twenty-five miles an hour. 

My field notes tell of a similar experience with the 
last gazelle which Mac killed late in the afternoon. 
". . . We ran toward another group of antelope stand- 
ing on the summit of a long land swell. There were 
fourteen in this herd and as the car neared them they 
trotted about with heads up, evidently trying to decide 
what species of plains animal we represented. The 
sun had just set, and I shall never forget the picture 
which they made, their graceful figures showing in 
black silhouettes against the rose glow of the evening 
sky. There was one buck among them and they 
seemed very nervous. When the men leaped out to 
shoot we were fully two hundred and fifty yards 
away, but at his third shot Mac dropped the buck. 
It was up again and off before the motor started in 



NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 49 

pursuit and, although running apart from the herd, it 
was only a short distance behind the others. Evidently 
the right foreleg was broken but with the car traveling 
at twenty-five miles an hour it was still drawing ahead. 
The going was not good and we ran for two miles with- 
out gaining an inch; then we came to a bit of smooth 
plain and the motor shot ahead at thirty-five miles an 
hour. We gained slowly and, when about one hundred 
yards away, I leaped out and fired at the animal break- 
ing the other foreleg low down on the left side. Even 
with two legs injured it still traveled at a rate of fifteen 
miles, and a third shot was required to finish the unfor- 
tunate business. We found that both limbs were broken 
below the knee, and that the animal had been running 
on the stumps." 



CHAPTER V 

ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 

It was eight o'clock before we finished breakfast in 
the morning, but we did not wish to begin the motion 
picture photography until the sun was high enough 
above the horizon to give us a clear field for work. 
Charles and I rigged the tripod firmly in the tormeau 
of one of the cars. Mrs. Mac and Wang, a Chinese 
driver, were in the front seat, while Yvette and I 
squeezed in beside the camera. The Coltmans, Mac, 
and Owen occupied the other motor. We found a 
herd of antelope within a mile of camp and they pa- 
raded in beautiful formation as the car approached. It 
would have made a splendid picture, but although the 
two automobiles were of the same make, there was a 
vast difference in their speed and it was soon evident 
that we could not keep pace with the other motor. 
After two or three ineffectual attempts we roped the 
camera in the most powerful car, the three men came 
in with me, and the women transferred to Wang's ma- 
chine. 

The last herd of antelope had disappeared over a long 
hill, and when we reached the summit we saw that they 
had separated into four groups and scattered about 
on the plains below us. We selected the largest, con- 

50 



ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 51 

taining about fifty animals, and ran toward it as fast 
as the car could travel. The herd divided when we 
were still several hundred yards away, but the larger 
part gave promise of swinging across our path. The 
ground was thinly covered with short bunch grass, and 
when we reached a speed of thirty-five miles an hour 
the car was bounding and leaping over the tussocks 
like a ship in a heavy gale. I tried to stand, but after 
twice being almost pitched out bodily I gave it up and 
operated the camera by kneeling on the rear seat. 
Mac helped anchor me by sitting on my left leg, and 
we got one hundred feet of film from the first herd. 
Races with three other groups gave us two hundred 
feet more, and as the gasoline in our tank was alarm- 
ingly depleted we turned back toward camp. 

Unfortunately I did not reload the camera with a 
fresh roll of film and thereby missed one of the most 
unusual and interesting pictures which ever could be 
obtained upon the plains. The tents were already in 
sight when a wolf suddenly appeared on the crest of 
a grassy knoll. He looked at us for a moment and 
then set off at an easy lope. The temptation was too 
great to be resisted even though there was a strong 
possibility that we might be stalled in the desert with 
no gas. 

The ground was smooth and hard, and our speed- 
ometer showed forty miles an hour. We soon began 
to gain, but for three miles he gave us a splendid race. 
Suddenly, as we came over a low hill, we saw an enor- 
mous herd of antelope directly in front of us. They 



52 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

were not more than two hundred yards away, and the 
wolf made straight for them. Panic-stricken at the 
sight of their hereditary enemy followed by the roaring 
car, they scattered wildly and then swung about to 
cross our path. The wolf dashed into their midst and 
the herd divided as though cut by a knife. Some turned 
short about, but the others kept on toward us until I 
thought we would actually run them down. When not 
more than fifty yards from the motor they wheeled 
sharply and raced along beside the wolf. 

To add to the excitement a fat, yellow marmot, which 
seemed suddenly to have lost his mind, galloped over 
the plain as fast as his short legs could carry him until 
he remembered that safety lay underground; then he 
popped into his burrow like a billiard ball into a pocket. 
With this strange assortment fleeing in front of the 
car we felt as though we had invaded a zoological gar- 
den. 

The wolf paid not the slightest attention to the an- 
telope for he had troubles of his own. We were almost 
on him, and I could see his red tongue between the 
foam-flecked jaws. Suddenly he dodged at right an- 
gles, and it was only by a clever bit of driving that 
Charles avoided crashing into him with the left front 
wheel. Before we could swing about the wolf had 
gained five hundred yards, but he was almost done. 
In another mile we had him right beside the car, and 
Coltman leaned far out to kill him with his pistol. The 
first bullet struck so close behind the animal that it 
turned him half over, and he dodged again just in time 



ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 53 

to meet a shot from Mac's rifle which broke his back. 
With its dripping lips drawn over a set of ugly teeth, 
the beast glared at us, as much as to say, "It is your 
move next, but don't come too close." Had it been 
any animal except a wolf I should have felt a twinge 
of pity, but I had no sympathy for the skulking brute. 
There will be more antelope next year because of its 
death. 

All this had happened with an unloaded camera in 
the automobile. I had tried desperately to adjust a 
new roll of film, but had given up in despair for it was 
difficult enough even to sit in the bounding car. Were 
I to spend the remainder of my life in Mongolia there 
might never be such a chance again. 

But we had an opportunity to learn just how fast a 
wolf can run, for the one we had killed was undoubt- 
edly putting his best foot forward. I estimated that 
even at first he was not doing more than thirty-five 
miles an hour, and later we substantiated it on another, 
which gave us a race of twelve miles. With antelope 
which can reach fifty-five to sixty miles an hour a wolf 
has little chance, unless he catches them unawares, or 
finds the newly born young. To avoid just this the 
antelope are careful to stay well out on the plains 
where there are no rocks or hills to conceal a skulking 
wolf. 

The wolf we had killed was shedding its hair and pre- 
sented a most dilapidated, moth-eaten appearance; 
moreover, it had just been feeding on the carcass of a 
dead camel, which subsequently we discovered a mile 



54 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

away. When we reached camp I directed the two 
taxidermists to prepare the skeleton of the wolf, but to 
keep well away from the tents. 

Charles and I had been talking a good deal about 
antelope steak, and for tiffin I had cut the fillets from 
one of the young gazelle. We were very anxious to 
"make good" on all that had been promised, so we 
cooked the steak ourselves. Just when the party was 
assembled in the tent for luncheon the Chinese began 
work upon the wolf. They had obediently gone to a 
considerable distance to perform the last rites, but had 
not chosen wisely in regard to the wind. As the an- 
telope steak was brought in, a gentle breeze wafted with 
it a concentrated essence of defunct camel. Yvette 
put down her knife and fork and looked up. She 
caught my eye and burst out laughing. Mrs. Mac 
had her hand clasped firmly over her mouth and on her 
face was an expression of horror and deathly nausea. 

Although I am a great lover of antelope steak, I will 
admit that when accompanied by parfum de chameau, 
especially when it is a very dead chameau, there are 
other things more attractive. Moreover, the antelope 
which we killed on the Panj-kiang plain really were 
very strong indeed. I have never been able to discover 
what was the cause, for those farther to the north were 
as delicious as any we have ever eaten. The introduc- 
tion was such an unfortunate one that the party shied 
badly whenever antelope meat was mentioned during 
the remainder of the trip to Urga. Coltman, who had 
charge of the commissary, quite naturally expected that 



ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 55 

we would depend largely on meat and had not provided 
a sufficiency of other food. As a result we found that 
after the third day rations were becoming very short. 

We camped that night at a well in a sandy river 
bottom about ten miles beyond Ude, the halfway point 
on the trip to Urga. It had been a bad day, with a bit- 
terly cold wind which drove the dust and tiny pebbles 
against our faces like a continual storm of hail. As 
soon as the cars had stopped every one of us set to work 
with soap and water before anything had been done 
toward making camp. Our one desire was to remove 
a part of the dirt which had sifted into our eyes, hair, 
mouths, and ears. In half an hour we looked more 
brightly upon the world and began to wonder what 
we would have for dinner. It was a discussion which 
could not be carried on for very long since the bread 
was almost gone and only macaroni remained. Just 
then a demoiselle crane alighted beside the well not 
forty yards away. "There's our dinner," Charles 
shouted, "shoot it." 

Two minutes later I was stripping off the feathers, 
and in less than five minutes it was sizzling in the pan. 
That was a bit too much for Mrs. Mac, hungry as 
she was. "Just think," she said, "that bird was walk- 
ing about here not ten minutes ago and now it's on my 
plate. It hasn't stopped wiggling yet. I can't eat it!" 

Poor girl, she went to bed hungry, and in the nigh! 
waked to find her face terribly swollen from wind and 
sunburn. She was certain that she was about to die, 
but decided, like the "good sport" she is, to die alone 



56 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

upon the hillside where she wouldn't disturb the camp. 
After half an hour of wandering about she felt better, 
and returned to her sleeping bag on the sandy river 
bottom. 

Just before dark we heard the dong, dong, doing of 
a camel's bell and saw the long line of dusty yellow 
animals swing around a sharp earth-corner into the 
sandy space beside the well. Like the trained units of 
an army each camel came into position, kneeled upon 
the ground and remained quietly chewing its cud until 
the driver removed the load. Long before the last 
straggler had arrived the tents were up and a fire blaz- 
ing, and far into the night the thirsty beasts grunted 
and roared as the trough was filled with water. 

For thirty-six days they had been on the road, and 
yet were only halfway across the desert. Every 
day had been exactly like the day before — an endless 
routine of eating and sleeping, camp-making and camp- 
breaking in sun, rain, or wind. The monotony of it 
all would be appalling to a westerner, but the Oriental 
mind seems peculiarly adapted to accept it with entire 
contentment. Long before daylight they were on the 
road again, and when we awoke only the smoking em- 
bers of an argul fire remained as evidence that they 
ever had been there. 

Mongolia, as we saw it in the spring, was very dif- 
ferent from Mongolia of the early autumn. The hills 
and plains stretched away in limitless waves of brown 
untinged by the slightest trace of green, and in shaded 
corners among rocks there were still patches of snow 



ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 57 

or ice. Instead of resembling the grassy plains of 
Kansas or Nebraska, now it was like a real desert and 
I had difficulty in justifying to Yvette and Mac my 
glowing accounts of its potential resources. 

Moreover, the human life was just as disappointing 
as the lack of vegetation, for we were "between sea- 
sons" on the trail. The winter traffic was almost ended, 
and the camels would not be replaced by cart caravans 
until the grass was long enough to provide adequate 
food for oxen and horses. The yurts, which often are 
erected far out upon the plains away from water when 
snow is on the ground, had all been moved near the 
wells or to the summer pastures; and sometimes we 
traveled a hundred miles without a glimpse of even 
a solitary Mongol. 

Ude had been left far behind, and we were bowl- 
ing along on a road as level as a floor, when we saw 
two wolves quietly watching us half a mile away. We 
had agreed not to chase antelope again ; but wolves were 
fair game at any time. Moreover, we were particu- 
larly glad to be able to check our records as to how fast 
a wolf can run when conditions are in its favor. Colt- 
man signaled Mac to await us with the others, and 
we swung toward the animals which were trotting 
slowly westward, now and then stopping to look back 
as though reluctant to leave such an unusual exhibition 
as the car was giving them. A few moments later, 
however, they decided that curiosity might prove dan- 
gerous and began to run in earnest. 

They separated almost immediately, and we raced 



58 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

after the larger of the two, a huge fellow with rangy 
legs which carried him forward in a long, swinging 
lope. The ground was perfect for the car, and the 
speedometer registered forty miles an hour. He had 
a thousand-yard start, but we gained rapidly, and I 
estimated that he never reached a greater speed than 
thirty miles an hour. Charles was very anxious to kill 
the brute from the motor with his A5 caliber automatic 
pistol, and I promised not to shoot. 

The wolf was running low to the ground, his head 
a little to one side watching us with one bloodshot 
eye. He was giving us a great race, but the odds were 
all against him, and finally we had him right beside 
the motor. Leaning far out, Coltman fired quickly. 
The bullet struck just behind the brute, and he swerved 
sharply, missing the right front wheel by a scant six 
inches. Before Charles could turn the car he had 
gained three hundred yards, but we reached him again 
in little more than a mile. As Coltman was about to 
shoot a second time, the wolf suddenly dropped from 
sight. Almost on the instant the car plunged over a 
bank four feet in height, landed with a tremendous 
shock — and kept on! Charles had seen the danger in 
a flash, and had thrown his body against the wheel to 
hold it steady. Had he not been an expert driver we 
should inevitably have turned upside down and prob- 
ably all would have been killed. 

We stopped an instant to inspect the springs, but 
by a miracle not a leaf was broken. The wolf halted, 
too, and we could see him standing on a gentle rise with 



ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 59 

drooping head, his gray sides heaving. He seemed to 
be "all in," but to our amazement he was off again like 
the wind even before the car had started. During the 
last three miles the ground had been changing rap- 
idly, and we soon reached a stony plain where there 
was imminent danger of smashing a front wheel. The 
wolf was heading directly toward a rocky slope which 
lay against the sky like the spiny back of some gigan- 
tic monster of the past. 

His strategy had almost won the race. For a mo- 
ment the wolf rested on the ridge, and I leaped out to 
shoot, but instantly he dropped behind the bowlders. 
Leaving me to intercept the animal, Charles swung be- 
hind the ridge only to run at full speed into a sandy 
pocket. The motor ceased to throb, and the race was 
ended. 

These wolves are sneaking carrion-feeders and as 
such I detest them, but this one had "played the game." 
For twelve long miles he had kept doggedly at his work 
without a whimper or a cry of "kamerad." The brute 
had outgeneraled us completely, had won by strategy 
and magnificent endurance. Whatever he supposed the 
roaring car to be, instinct told him that safety lay 
among the rocks and he led us there as straight as an 
arrow's flight. 

The animal seemed to take an almost human enjoy- 
ment in the way we had been tricked, for he stood on 
a hillside half a mile away watching our efforts to ex- 
tricate the car. We were in a bad place, and it was 
evident that the only method of escape was to remove 



60 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

all the baggage which was tied to the running boards. 
Spreading our fur sleeping bags upon the sand, we 
pushed and lifted the automobile to firm ground after 
an hour of strenuous work. Hardly had we started 
back to the road, when Charles suddenly clapped both 
hands to his face yelling, "My Lord, I'm burning up. 
What is it? I'm all on fire." 

Mrs. Coltman pulled his hands away, revealing his 
face covered with blotches and rising blisters. At the 
same moment Yvette and I felt a shower of liquid fire 
stinging our hands and necks. We leaped out of the 
car just as another blast swept back upon us. Then 
Charles shouted, "I know. It's the Delco plant," and 
dived toward the front mud guard. Sure enough, the 
cover had been displaced from one of the batteries, and 
little pools of sulphuric acid had formed on the leather 
casings. The wind was blowing half a gale, and each 
gust showered us with drops of colorless liquid which 
bit like tiny, living coals. 

In less than ten seconds I had slashed the ropes and 
the batteries were lying on the ground, but the acid 
had already done its work most thoroughly. The duffle 
sacks containing all our field clothes had received a lib- 
eral dose, and during the summer Yvette was kept busy 
patching shirts and trousers. I never would have 
believed that a little acid could go so far. Even gar- 
ments in the very center of the sacks would suddenly 
disintegrate when we put them on, and the Hutukhtu 
and his electric plant were "blessed" many times before 
we left Mongolia. 




THE PRISON AT URGA 




A CRIMINAL IN A COFFIN WITH HANDS MANACLED 



ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 61 

When we reached the road, Mrs. Mac was sitting 
disconsolately in a car beside the servants. We had 
been gone nearly three hours and the poor girl was 
frantic with anxiety. Mac and Owen had followed 
our tracks in another motor, and arrived thirty min- 
utes later. Mac's happy face was drawn and white. 

"I wouldn't go through that experience again for 
all the money in Mongolia," he said. "We followed 
your tracks and at every hill expected to find you dead 
on the other side and the car upside down. How on 
earth did you miss capsizing when you went over that 
bank?" 

At Turin we found Mr. and Mrs. Mamen camped 
near the telegraph station awaiting our arrival. The 
first cry was "Food! Food!" and two loaves of Russian 
bread which they had brought from Urga vanished in 
less than fifteen minutes. After taking several hun- 
dred feet of "movie" film at the monastery, we ran on 
northward over a road which was as smooth and hard 
as a billiard table. The Turin plain was alive with 
game; marmots, antelope, hares, bustards, geese, and 
cranes seemed to have concentrated there as though in 
a vast zoological garden, and we had some splendid 
shooting. But as Yvette and I spent two glorious 
months on this same plain, I will tell in future chapters 
how, in long morning horseback rides and during silent 
starlit nights, we learned to know and love it. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 

Far up in northern Mongolia, where the forests 
stretch in an unbroken line to the Siberian frontier, 
lies Urga, the Sacred City of the Living Buddha. The 
world has other sacred cities, but none like this. It is 
a relic of medieval times overlaid with a veneer of twen- 
tieth-century civilization ; a city of violent contrasts and 
glaring anachronisms. Motor cars pass camel cara- 
vans fresh from the vast, lone spaces of the Gobi Des- 
ert ; holy lamas, in robes of flaming red or brilliant yel- 
low, walk side by side with black-gowned priests; and 
swarthy Mongol women, in the fantastic headdress of 
their race, stare wonderingly at the latest fashions of 
their Russian sisters. 

We came to Urga from the south. All day we had 
been riding over rolling, treeless uplands, and late in 
the afternoon we had halted on the summit of a hill 
overlooking the Tola River valley. Fifteen miles away 
lay Urga, asleep in the darkening shadow of the 
Bogdo-ol (God's Mountain). An hour later the road 
led us to our first surprise in Mai-ma-cheng, the Chi- 
nese quarter of the city. Years of wandering in the 
strange corners of the world had left us totally unpre- 
pared for what we saw. It seemed that here in Mon- 

62 



THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 63 

golia we had discovered an American frontier outpost 
of the Indian fighting days. Every house and shop was 
protected by high stockades of unpeeled timbers, and 
there was hardly a trace of Oriental architecture save 
where a temple roof gleamed above the palisades. 

Before we were able to adjust our mental perspec- 
tive we had passed from colonial America into a ham- 
let of modern Russia. Gayly painted cottages lined 
the road, and, unconsciously, I looked for a white 
church with gilded cupolas. The church was not in 
sight, but its place was taken by a huge red building of 
surpassing ugliness, the Russian Consulate. It stands 
alone on the summit of a knoll, the open plains stretch- 
ing away behind it to the somber masses of the north- 
ern forests. In its imposing proportions it is tangible 
evidence of the Russian Colossus which not many years 
ago dominated Urga and all that is left of the ancient 
empire of the Khans. 

For two miles the road is bordered by Russian cot- 
tages ; then it debouches into a wide square which loses 
its distinctive character and becomes an indescribable 
mixture of Russia, Mongolia, and China. Palisaded 
compounds, gay with fluttering prayer flags, ornate 
houses, felt-covered yurts, and Chinese shops mingle in 
a dizzying chaos of conflicting personalities. Three 
great races have met in Urga and each carries on, in 
this far corner of Mongolia, its own customs and way 
of life. The Mongol yurt has remained unchanged ; the 
Chinese shop, with its wooden counter and blue-gowned 



r 



64 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

inmates, is pure Chinese; and the ornate cottages pro- 
claim themselves to be only Russian. 

But on the street my wife and I could never forget 
that we were in Mongolia. We never tired of wan- 
dering through the narrow alleys, with their tiny na- 
tive shops, or of watching the ever-changing crowds. 
Mongols in half a dozen different tribal dresses, Tibetan 
pilgrims, Manchu Tartars, or camel drivers from far 
Turkestan drank and ate and gambled with Chinese 
from civilized Peking. 

The barbaric splendor of the native dress fairly makes 
one gasp for breath. Besides gowns and sashes of daz- 
zling brilliance, the men wear on their heads all the types 
of covering one learned to know in the pictures of 
ancient Cathay, from the high-peaked hat of yellow and 
black — through the whole, strange gamut — to the helmet 
with streaming peacock plumes. But were I to tell 
about them all I would leave none of my poor descrip- 
tive phrases for the women. 

It is hopeless to draw a word-picture of a Mongol 
woman. A photograph will help, but to be appreciated 
she must be seen in all her colors. To begin with the 
dressing of her hair. If all the women of the Orient 
competed to produce a strange and fantastic type, I do 
not believe that they could excel what the Mongol ma- 
trons have developed by themselves. 

Their hair is plaited over a frame into two enormous 
flat bands, curved like the horns of a mountain sheep 
and reenforced with bars of wood or silver. Each horn 
ends in a silver plaque, studded with bits of colored glass 



THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 65 

or stone, and supports a pendent braid like a riding 
quirt. On her head, between the horns, she wears a sil- 
ver cap elaborately chased and flashing with "jewels. " 
Surmounting this is a "saucer" hat of black and yellow. 
Her skirt is of gorgeous brocade or cloth, and the jacket 
is of like material with prominent "puffs" upon the 
shoulders. She wears huge leather boots with upturned, 
pointed toes, similar to those of the men, and when in 
full array she has a whole portiere of beadwork sus- 
pended from the region of her ears. 

She is altogether satisfying to the lover of fantastic 
Oriental costumes, except in the matter of footgear, and 
this slight exception might be allowed, for she has so 
amply decorated every other available part of her 
anatomy. 

Moreover, the boots form a very necessary adjunct 
to her personal equipment, besides providing a cover- 
ing for her feet. They are many sizes too large, of 
course, but they furnish ample space during the bitter 
cold of winter for the addition of several pairs of socks, 
varying in number according to the thermometer. Dur- 
ing the summer she often wears no socks at all, but their 
place is taken by an assortment of small articles which 
cannot be carried conveniently on her person. Her pipe 
and tobacco, a package of tea, or a wooden bowl can 
easily be stuffed into the wide top boots, for pockets are 
an unknown luxury even to the men. 

In its kaleidoscopic mass of life and color the city is 
like a great pageant on the stage of a theater, with the 
added fascination of reality. But, somehow, I could 



66 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

never quite make myself believe that it was real when a 
brilliant group of horsemen in pointed, yellow hats and 
streaming, peacock feathers dashed down the street. It 
seemed too impossible that I, a wandering naturalist of 
the drab, prosaic twentieth century, and my American 
wife were really a living, breathing part of this strange 
drama of the Orient. 

But there was one point of contact which we had with 
this dream-life of the Middle Ages. Yvette and I both 
love horses, and the way to a Mongol's heart is through 
his pony. Once on horseback we began to identify our- 
selves with the fascinating life around us. We lost the 
uncomfortable sense of being merely spectators in the 
Urga theatricals, and forgot that we had come to the 
holy city by means of a very unromantic motor car. 

We remained at Urga for ten days while preparations 
were under way for our first trip to the plains, and re- 
turned to it often during the summer. We came to 
know it well, and each time we rode down the long street 
it seemed more wonderful that, in these days of com- 
merce, Urga, and in fact all Mongolia, could have ex- 
isted throughout the centuries with so little change. 

There is, of course, no lack of modern influence in the 
sacred city, but as yet it is merely a veneer which has 
been lightly superimposed upon its ancient civilization, 
leaving almost untouched the basic customs of its peo- 
ple. This has been due to the remoteness of Mongolia. 
Until a few years ago, when motor cars first made their 
way across the seven hundred miles of plains, the only 
access from the south was by camel caravan, and the 



THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 67 

monotonous trip offered little inducement to casual trav- 
elers. The Russians came to Urga from the north and, 
until the recent war, their influence was paramount 
along the border. They were by no means anxious to 
have other foreigners exploit Mongolia, and they wished 
especially to keep the country as a buffer-state between 
themselves and China. 

Not only is Urga the capital of Mongolia and the 
only city of considerable size in the entire country but 
it is also the residence of the Hutukhtu, or Living 
Buddha, the head of both the Church and the State. 
Across the valley his palaces nestle close against the 
base of the Bogdo-ol (God's Mountain), which rises in 
wooded slopes from the river to an elevation of eleven 
thousand feet above sea level. 

The Sacred Mountain is a vast game preserve, which 
is patrolled by two thousand lamas, and every approach 
is guarded by a temple or a camp of priests. Great 
herds of elk, roebuck, boar, and other animals roam the 
forests, but to shoot within the sacred precincts would 
mean almost certain death for the transgressor. Some 
years ago several Russians from Urga made their way 
up the mountain during the night and killed a bear. 
They were brought back in chains by a mob of frenzied 
lamas. Although the hunters had been beaten nearly to 
death, it required all the influence of the Russian diplo- 
matic agent to save what remained of their lives. 

The Bogdo-ol extends for twenty-five miles along the 
Tola Valley, shutting off Urga from the rolling plains 
to the south. Like a gigantic guardian of the holy city 



68 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

at its base, it stands as the only obstacle to the wireless 
station which is soon to be erected. 

The Hutukhtu has three palaces on the banks of the 
Tola River. One of them is a hideous thing, built in 
Russian style. The other two at least have the virtue 
of native architecture. In the main palace the cen- 
tral structure is white with gilded cupolas, and smaller 
pavilions at the side have roofs of green. The whole is 
surrounded by an eight-foot stockade of white posts 
trimmed with red. 

The Hutukhtu seldom leaves his palace now, for he 
is old and sick and almost blind. Many strange stories 
are told of the mysterious "Living God" which tend to 
show him "as of the earth earthy." It is said that in 
former days he sometimes left his "heaven" to revel with 
convivial foreigners in Urga; but all this is gossip and 
we are discussing a very saintly person. His passion 
for Occidental trinkets and inventions is well known, 
however, and his palace is a veritable storehouse 
for gramophones, typewriters, microscopes, sewing 
machines, and a host of other things sold to him by 
Russian traders and illustrated in picture catalogues 
sent from the uttermost corners of the world. But like 
a child he soon tires of his toys and throws them aside. 
He has a motor car, but he never rides in it. It has been 
reported that his chief use for the automobile is to attach 
a wire to its batteries and give his ministers an electric 
shock; for all Mongols love a practical joke, and the 
Hutukhtu is no exception. 

Now his palace is wired for electricity, and a great arc 



THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 69 

light illuminates the courtyard. One evening Mr. Lu- 
cander and Mr. Mamen, who sold the electric plant to 
the Hutukhtu, were summoned to the palace to receive 
payment. They .witnessed a scene which to-day could 
be possible only in Mongolia. Several thousand dollars 
in silver were brought outside to their motor car, and 
the lama, who paid the bills, insisted that they count it in 
his presence. 

A great crowd of Mongols had gathered near the pal- 
ace and at last a long rope was let out from one of the 
buildings. Kneeling, the Mongols reverently touched 
the rope, which was gently waggled from the other end, 
supposedly by the Hutukhtu. A barbaric monotone of 
chanted prayers arose from the kneeling suppliants, and 
the rope was waggled again. Then the Mongols rode 
away, silent with awe at having been blessed by the 
Living God. All this under a blazing electric light be- 
side an automobile at the foot of the Bogdo-ol! 

The Hutukhtu seemed to feel that it became his sta- 
tion as a ruling monarch to have a foreign house with 
foreign furniture. Of course he never intended to live 
in it, but other kings had useless palaces and why 
shouldn't he ? Therefore, a Russian atrocity of red brick 
was erected a half mile or so from his other dwellings. 
The furnishing became a matter of moment, and Mr. 
Lucander, who was temporarily in the employ of the 
Mongolian Government, was .intrusted with the task of 
attending to the intimate details. The selection of a 
bed was most important, for even Living Buddhas have 
to sleep sometimes — they cannot always be blessing 



70 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

adoring subjects or playing jokes on their ministers of 
state. With considerable difficulty a foreign bed was 
purchased and brought across the seven hundred miles 
of plains and desert to the red brick palace on the banks 
of the Tola River. 

Mr. Lucander superintended its installation in the 
Hutukhtu's boudoir and himself turned chambermaid. 
As this was the first time he had ever made a bed for a 
Living God, he arranged the spotless sheets and turned 
down the covers with the greatest care. When all was 
done to his satisfaction he reported to one of the Hu- 
tukhtu's ministers that the bed was ready. Two lamas, 
high dignitaries of the church, were the inspection com- 
mittee. They agreed that it looked all right, but the 
question was, how did it feel? Mr. Lucander waxed elo- 
quent on the "springiness" of the springs, and assured 
them that no bed could be better ; that this was the bed 
par excellence of all the beds in China. The lamas held 
a guttural consultation and then announced that before 
the bed could be accepted it must be tested. Therefore, 
without more ado, each lama in his dirty boots and gown 
laid his unwashed self upon the bed, and bounced up 
and down. The result was satisfactory — except to Lu- 
cander and the sheets. 

Although to foreign eyes and in the cold light of 
modernity the Hutukhtu and his government cut a some- 
what ridiculous figure, the reverse of the picture is the 
pathetic death struggle of a once glorious race. I have 
said that unaccustomed luxury was responsible for the 
decline of the Mongol Empire, but the ruin of the race 



THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 71 

was due to the Lama Church. Lamaism, which was in- 
troduced from Tibet, gained its hold not long after the 
time of Kublai Khan's death in 1295. Previous to this 
the Mongols had been religious liberals, but eventually 
Lamaism was made the religion of the state. It is a 
branch of the Buddhist cult, and its teachings are 
against war and violent death. 

By custom one or more sons of every family are dedi- 
cated to the priesthood, and as Lamaism requires its 
priests to be celibate, the birth rate is low. To-day there 
are only a few million Mongols in a country half as 
large as the United States (exclusive of Alaska), a 
great proportion of the male population being lamas. 
With no education, except in the books of their sect, 
they lead a lazy, worthless existence, supported by the 
lay population and by the money they extract by prey- 
ing upon the superstitions of their childlike brothers. 
Were Lamaism abolished there still would be hope for 
Mongolia under a proper government, for the Mongols 
of to-day are probably the equals of Genghis Khan's 
warriors in strength, endurance, and virility. 

The religion of Mongolia is like that of Tibet and the 
Dalai Lama of Lhassa is the head of the entire Church. 
The Tashi Lama residing at Tashilumpo, also in Tibet, 
ranks second. The Hutukhtu of Mongolia is third in the 
Lama hierarchy, bearing the title Cheptsundampa Hu- 
tukhtu (Venerable Best Saint). According to ancient 
tradition, the Hutukhtu never dies; his spirit simply 
reappears in the person of some newly born infant and 
thus comes forth reembodied. The names of infants, 



78 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

who have been selected as possible candidates for the 
honor, are written upon slips of paper incased in rolls 
of paste and deposited in a golden urn. The one which 
is drawn is hailed as the new incarnation. 

Some years ago the eyesight of the Hutukhtu began 
to fail, and a great temple was erected as a sacrifice to 
appease the gods. It stands on a hill at the western end 
of Urga, surrounded by the tiny wooden dwellings of 
the priests. "The Lama City" it is called, for only those 
in the service of the Church are allowed to live within 
its sacred precincts. In the temple itself there is an 
eighty-foot bronze image of Buddha standing on a 
golden lotus flower. The great figure is heavily gilded, 
incrusted with precious stones, and draped with silken 
cloths. 

I was fortunate in being present one day when the 
temple was opened to women and the faithful in the 
city. Somewhat doubtful as to my reception, I followed 
the crowd as it filed through an outer pavilion between 
a double row of kneeling lamas in high-peaked hats and 
robes of flaming yellow. I carried my hat in my hand 
and tried to wear a becoming expression of humility and 
reverence. It was evidently successful, for I passed un- 
hindered into the Presence. At the entrance stood a 
priest who gave me, with the others, a few drops of holy 
water from a filthy jug. Silent with awe, the people 
bathed their faces with the precious fluid and prostrated 
themselves before the gigantic figure standing on the 
golden lotus blossom, its head lost in the shadows of the 
temple roof. They kissed its silken draperies, soiled by 



r 




LAMAS CALLING THE GODS AT A TEMPLE IN URGA 




MONGOL PRAYING AT A SHRINE IN URGA 



THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 73 

the lips of other thousands, and each one gathered a 
handful of sacred dirt from the temple floor. From 
niches in the walls hundreds of tiny Buddhas gazed im- 
passively on the worshiping Mongols. 

The scene was intoxicating in its barbaric splendor. 
The women in their fantastic headdresses and brilliant 
gowns ; the blazing yellow robes of the kneeling lamas ; 
and the chorus of prayers which rose and fell in a mean- 
ingless half -wild chant broken by the clash of cymbals 
and the boom of drums — all this set the blood leaping 
in my veins. There was a strange dizziness in my 
head, and I had an almost overpowering desire to fall 
on my knees with the Mongols and join in the chorus 
of adoration. The subtle smell of burning incense, the 
brilliant colors, and the barbaric music were like an in- 
toxicating drink which inflamed the senses but dulled the 
brain. It was then that I came nearest to understand- 
ing the religious fanaticism of the East. Even with a 
background of twentieth-century civilization I felt its 
sensuous power. What wonder that it has such a hold 
on a simple, uneducated people, fed on superstition from 
earliest childhood and the religious traditions of seven 
hundred years ! 

The service ended abruptly in a roar of sound. Ris- 
ing to their feet, the people streamed into the courtyard 
to whirl the prayer wheels about the temple's base. 
Each wheel is a hollow cylinder of varying size, standing 
on end, and embellished with Tibetan characters in gold. 
The wheels are sometimes filled with thousands of slips 
of paper upon which is written a prayer or a sacred 



74 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

thought, and each revolution adds to the store of merit 
in the future life. 

The Mongol goes farther still in accumulating virtue, 
and every native house in Urga is gay with fluttering 
bits of cloth or paper on which a prayer is written. Each 
time the little flag moves in the wind it sends forth a 
supplication for the welfare of the Mongol's spirit in 
the Buddhistic heaven. Not only are the prayer wheels 
found about the temples, but they line the streets, and 
no visiting Mongol need be deprived of trying the virtue 
of a new device without going to a place of worship. 
He can give a whirl or two to half a dozen within a hun- 
dred yards of where he buys his tea or sells his sheep. 

On every hand there is constant evidence that Urga 
is a sacred city. It never can be forgotten even for a 
moment. The golden roofs of scores of temples give 
back the sunlight, and the moaning chant of praying 
lamas is always in the air. Even in the main street I 
have seen the prostrate forms of ragged pilgrims who 
have journeyed far to this Mecca of the lama faith. 
If they are entering the city for the first time and crave 
exceeding virtue, they approach the great temple on the 
hill by lying face down at every step and beating their 
foreheads upon the ground. Wooden shrines of daz- 
zling whiteness stand in quiet streets or cluster by them- 
selves behind the temples. In front of each, raised 
slightly at one end, is a prayer board worn black and 
smooth by the prostrated bodies of worshiping Mongols. 

Although the natives take such care for the repose of 
the spirit in after life, they have a strong distaste for 



THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 75 

the body from which the spirit has fled and they consider 
it a most undesirable thing to have about the house. The 
stigma is imposed even upon the dying. In Urga a 
family of Mongols had erected their yurt in the court- 
yard of one of our friends. During the summer the 
young wife became very ill, and when her husband was 
convinced that she was about to die he moved the poor 
creature bodily out of the yurt. She could die if she 
wished, but it must not be inside his house. 

The corpse itself is considered unclean and the abode 
of evil spirits, and as such must be disposed of as quickly 
as possible. Sometimes the whole family will pack up 
their yurt and decamp at once, leaving the body where it 
lies. More usually the corpse is loaded upon a cart 
which is driven at high speed over a bit of rough ground. 
The body drops off at some time during the journey, but 
the driver does not dare look back until he is sure that 
the unwelcome burden is no longer with him ; otherwise 
he might anger the spirit following the corpse and 
thereby cause himself and his family unending trouble. 
Unlike the Chinese, who treat their dead with the great- 
est respect and go to enormous expense in the burial, 
every Mongol knows that his coffin will be the stomachs 
of dogs, wolves, or birds. Indeed, the Chinese name for 
the raven is the "Mongol's coffin." 

The first day we camped in Urga, my wife and Mrs. 
MacCallie were walking beside the river. Only a short 
distance from our tent they discovered a dead Mongol 
who had just been dragged out of the city. A pack of 



76 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

dogs were in the midst of their feast and the sight was 
most unpleasant. 

The dogs of Mongolia are savage almost beyond be- 
lief. They are huge black fellows like the Tibetan mas- 
tiff, and their diet of dead human flesh seems to have 
given them a contempt for living men. Every Mongol 
family has one or more, and it is exceedingly dangerous 
for a man to approach a yurt or caravan unless he is on 
horseback or has a pistol ready. In Urga itself you will 
probably be attacked if you walk unarmed through the 
meat market at night. I have never visited Constanti- 
nople, but if the Turkish city can boast of more dogs 
than Urga, it must be an exceedingly disagreeable place 
in which to dwell. Although the dogs live to a large ex- 
tent upon human remains, they are also fed by the 
lamas. Every day about four o'clock in the afternoon 
you can see a cart being driven through the main street, 
followed by scores of yelping dogs. On it are two or 
more dirty lamas with a great barrel from which they 
ladle out refuse for the dogs, for according to their 
religious beliefs they accumulate great merit for them- 
selves if they prolong the life of anything, be it bird, 
beast, or insect. 

In the river valley, just below the Lama City, num- 
bers of dogs can always be found, for the dead priests 
usually are thrown there to be devoured. Dozens of 
white skulls lie about in the grass, but it is a serious 
matter even to touch one. I very nearly got into trouble 
one day by targeting my rifle upon a skull which lay 
two or three hundred yards away from our tent. 



THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 77 

The customs of the Mongols are not all as gruesome 
as those I have described, yet Urga is essentially a 
frontier city where life is seen in the raw. Its natives 
are a hard-living race, virile beyond compare. Children 
of the plains, they are accustomed to privation and fa- 
tigue. Their law is the law of the northland : 

". . . . That only the Strong shall thrive, 

That surely the Weak shall perish and only the Fit survive." 

In the careless freedom of his magnificent horseman- 
ship a Mongol seems as much an untamed creature of 
the plains as does the eagle itself which soars above his 
yurt . Independence breathes in every movement ; even 
in his rough good humor and in the barbaric splendor of 
the native dress. 

But the little matter of cleanliness is of no importance 
in his scheme of life. When a meal has been eaten, the 
wooden bowl is licked clean with the tongue ; it is seldom 
washed. Every man and woman usually carries through 
life the bodily dirt which has accumulated in childhood, 
unless it is removed by some accident or by the wear of 
years. One can be morally certain that it will never be 
washed off by design or water. Perhaps the native is 
not altogether to blame, for, except in the north, water 
is not abundant. It can be found on the plains and in 
the Gobi Desert only at wells and an occasional pond, 
and on the march it is too precious to be wasted in the 
useless process of bathing. Moreover, from September 
until May the bitter winds which sweep down from the 



78 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Siberian steppes furnish an unpleasant temperature in 
which to take a bath. 

The Mongol's food consists almost entirely of mutton, 
cheese, and tea. Like all northern people, he needs an 
abundance of fat, and sheep supply his wants. There is 
always more or less grease distributed about his clothes 
and person, and when Mongols are en masse the odor 
of mutton and unwashed humanity is well-nigh over- 
powering. 

I must admit that in morality the Mongol is but little 
better off than in personal cleanliness. A man may have 
only one lawful wife, but may keep as many concubines 
as his means allow, all of whom live with the members 
of the family in the single room of the yurt. Adultery 
is openly practiced, apparently without prejudice to 
either party, and polyandry is not unusual in the more 
remote parts of the country. 

The Mongol is unmoral rather than immoral. He 
lives like an untaught child of nature and the sense 
of modesty or decency, as we conceive it, does not enter 
into his scheme of life. But the operation of natural 
laws, which in the lower animals are successful in main- 
taining the species, is fatally impaired by the loose fam- 
ily relations which tend to spread disease. Unless 
Lamaism is abolished I can see little hope for the re- 
juvenation of the race. 

In writing of Urga's inhabitants and their way of 
life I am neglecting the city itself. I have already told 
of the great temple on the hill and its clustering lama 
houses which overlook and dominate the river valley. 



THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 79 

Its ornate roof, flashing in the sun, can be seen for 
many miles, like a religious beacon guiding the steps of 
wandering pilgrims to the Mecca of their faith. 

At the near end of the broad street below the Lama 
City is the tent market, and just beyond it are the black- 
smith shops where bridles, cooking pots, tent pegs, and 
all the equipment essential to a wandering life on the 
desert can be purchased in an hour — if you have the 
price! Nothing is cheap in Urga, with the exception of 
horses, and when we began to outfit for our trip on the 
plains we received a shock similar to that which I had 
a month ago in New York, when I paid twenty dollars 
for a pair of shoes. We ought to be hardened to it now, 
but when we were being robbed in Urga by profiteering 
Chinese, who sell flour at ten and twelve dollars a sack 
and condensed milk at seventy-five cents a tin, we roared 
and grumbled — and paid the price! I vowed I would 
never pay twenty dollars for a pair of shoes at home, 
but roaring and grumbling is no more effective in pro- 
curing shoes in New York than it was in obtaining flour 
and milk in Urga. 

We paid in Russian rubles, then worth three cents 
each, (In former years a ruble equaled more than half 
a dollar.) Eggs were well-nigh nonexistent, except 
those which had made their way up from China over the 
long caravan trail and were guaranteed to be "addled" 
— or whatever it is that sometimes makes an egg an un- 
pleasant companion at the breakfast table. Even those 
cost three rubles each ! Only a few Russians own chick- 
ens in Urga and their productions are well-nigh "golden 



80 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

eggs," for grain is very scarce and it takes an astound- 
ing number of rubles to buy a bushel. 

Fortunately we had sent most of our supplies and 
equipment to Urga by caravan during the winter, but 
there were a good many odds and ends needed to fill our 
last requirements, and we came to know the ins and outs 
of the sacred city intimately before we were ready to 
leave for the plains. The Chinese shops were our real 
help, for in Urga, as everywhere else in the Orient, the 
Chinese are the most successful merchants. Some firms 
have accumulated considerable wealth and the China- 
man does not hesitate to exact the last cent of profit 
when trading with the Mongols. 

At the eastern end of Urga's central street, which is 
made picturesque by gayly painted prayer wheels and 
alive with a moving throng of brilliant horsemen, are 
the Custom House and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 
The former is at the far end of an enormous compound 
filled with camel caravans or loaded carts. There is a 
more or less useless wooden building, but the business 
is conducted in a large yurt, hard against the compound 
wall. It was an extraordinary contrast to see a modern 
filing-cabinet at one end and a telephone box on the felt- 
covered framework of the yurt . 

Not far beyond the Custom House is what I believe 
to be one of the most horrible prisons in the world. In- 
side a double palisade of unpeeled timbers is a space 
about ten feet square upon which open the doors of 
small rooms, almost dark. In these dungeons are piled 



THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 81 

wooden boxes, four feet long by two and one-half feet 
high. These coffins are the prisoners' cells. 

Some of the poor wretches have heavy chains about 
their necks and both hands manacled together. They 
can neither sit erect nor lie at full length. Their food, 
when the jailer remembers to give them any, is pushed 
through a six-inch hole in the coffin's side. Some are 
imprisoned here for only a few days or weeks; others 
for life, or for many years. Sometimes they lose the 
use of their limbs, which shrink and shrivel away. The 
agony of their cramped position is beyond the power of 
words to describe. Even in winter, when the tempera- 
ture drops, as it sometimes does, to sixty degrees below 
zero, they are given only a single sheepskin for covering. 
How it is possible to live in indescribable filth, half-fed, 
well-nigh frozen in winter, and suffering the tortures of 
the damned, is beyond my ken — only a Mongol could 
live at all. 

The prison is not a Mongol invention. It was built 
by the Manchus and is an eloquent tribute to a knowl- 
edge of the fine arts of cruelty that has never been sur- 
passed. 

I have given this description of the prison not to feed 
morbid curiosity, but to show that Urga, even if it has 
a Custom House, a Ministry of Foreign Affairs, motor 
cars, and telephones, is still at heart a city of the Middle 
Ages. 

In Urga we made a delightful and most valuable 
friend in the person of Mr. F. A. Larsen. Most for- 
eigners speak of him as "Larsen of Mongolia" and in- 



82 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

deed it is difficult for us to think of the country without 
thinking of the man. Some thirty years ago he rode 
into Mongolia and liked it. He liked it so much, in fact, 
that he dug a well and built a house among the Tabool 
hills a hundred miles north of Kalgan. At first he la- 
bored with his wife as a missionary, but later he left 
that field to her and took up the work which he loved 
best in all the world — the buying and selling of horses. 

During his years of residence in Mongolia hundreds 
of thousands of horses have passed under his appraising 
eyes and the Mongols respect his judgment as they re- 
spect the man. I wish that I might write the story of 
his life, for it is more interesting than any novel of ro- 
mance or adventure. In almost every recent event of 
importance to the Mongols Mr. Larsen's name has 
figured. Time after time he has been sent as an emis- 
sary of the Living Buddha to Peking when misunder- 
standings or disturbances threatened the political peace 
of Mongolia. Not only does he understand the psy- 
chology of the natives, but he knows every hill and plain 
of their vast plateau as well as do the desert nomads. 

For some time he had been in charge of Andersen, 
Meyer's branch at Urga with Mr. E. W. Olufsen and 
we made their house our headquarters. Mr. Larsen im- 
mediately undertook to obtain an outfit for our work 
upon the plains. He purchased two riding ponies for 
us from Prince Tze Tze; he borrowed two carts with 
harness from a Russian friend, and bought another ; he 
loaned us a riding pony for our Mongol, a cart horse of 
his own, and Mr. Olufsen contributed another. He 



H 






THE FRAMEWORK OF A "YURT" 




MONGOL WOMEN AND A LAMA 



THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 88 

made our equipment a personal matter and he was never 
too busy to assist us in the smallest details. Moreover, 
we could spend hours listening to the tales of his early 
life, for his keen sense of humor made him a delightful 
story-teller. One of the most charming aspects of our 
wandering life is the friends we have made in far corners 
of the world, and for none have we a more affectionate 
regard than for "Larsen of Mongolia." 



CHAPTER VII 

THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 

Our arrival in Urga was in the most approved man- 
ner of the twentieth century. We came in motor cars 
with much odor of gasoline and noise of horns. When 
we left the sacred city we dropped back seven hundred 
years and went as the Mongols traveled. Perhaps it 
was not quite as in the days of Genghis Khan, for we 
had three high-wheeled carts of a Russian model, but 
they were every bit as springless and uncomfortable as 
the palanquins of the ancient emperors. 

Of course, we ourselves did not ride in carts. They 
were driven by our cook and the two Chinese taxider- 
mists, each of whom sat on his own particular mound of 
baggage with an air of resignation and despondency. 
Their faces were very long indeed, for the sudden tran- 
sition from the back seat of a motor car to a jolting cart 
did not harmonize with their preconceived scheme of 
Mongolian life. But they endured it manfully, and 
doubtless it added much to the store of harrowing expe- 
rience with which they could regale future audiences in 
civilized Peking. 

My wife and I were each mounted on a Mongol pony. 
Mine was called "Kublai Khan" and he deserved the 
name. Later I shall have much to tell of this wonderful 

84 



THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 85 

horse, for I learned to love him as one loves a friend who 
has endured the "ordeal by fire ,, and has not been found 
wanting. My wife's chestnut stallion was a trifle 
smaller than Kublai Khan and proved to be a tricky 
beast whom I could have shot with pleasure. To this 
day she carries the marks of both his teeth and hoofs, 
and we have no interest in his future life. Kublai Khan 
has received the reward of a sunlit stable in Peking 
where carrots are in abundance and sugar is not un- 
known. 

Besides the three Chinese we had a little Mongol 
priest, a yellow lama only eighteen years of age. We 
did not hire him for spiritual reasons, but to be our 
guide and social mentor upon the plains. Of course, 
we could not speak Mongol, but both my wife and I 
know some Chinese and our cook-boy Lii was possessed 
of a species of "pidgin English" which, by using a 
good deal of imagination, we could understand at times. 
Since our lama spoke fluent Chinese, he acted as inter- 
preter with the Mongols, and we had no difficulty. It 
is wonderful how much you can do with sign language 
when you really have to, especially if the other fellow 
tries to understand. You always can be sure that the 
Mongols will match your efforts in this respect. 

An interesting part of our equipment was a Mongol 
tent which Charles Coltman had had made for us in Kal- 
gan. This is an ingenious adaptation of the ordinary 
wall tent, and is especially fitted for work on the plains. 
No one should attempt to use any other kind. From the 
ridgepole the sides curve down and out to the ground, 



86 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

presenting a sloping surface to the wind at every angle. 
One corner can be lifted to cause a draft through the 
door and an open fire can be built in the tent without 
danger of suffocation from the smoke ; moreover, it can 
be erected by a single person in ten minutes. We had 
an American wall tent also, but found it such a nuisance 
that we used it only during bad weather. In the wind 
which always blows upon the plains it flapped and flut- 
tered to such a degree that we could hardly sleep. 

As every traveler knows, the natives of a country 
usually have developed the best possible clothes and 
dwellings for the peculiar conditions under which they 
live. Just as the Mongol felt-covered yurt and tent are 
all that can be desired, so do they know that fur and 
leather are the only clothing to keep them warm during 
the bitter winter months. 

In the carts we had an ample supply of flour, bacon, 
coffee, tea, sugar, and dried fruit. For meat, we de- 
pended upon our guns, of course, and always had as 
much as could be used. Although we did not travel de 
luxe, nevertheless we were entirely comfortable. When 
a man boasts of the way in which he discards even neces- 
saries in the field, you can be morally certain that he has 
not done much real traveling. "Roughing it" does not 
harmonize well with hard work. One must accept 
enough discomforts under the best conditions without 
the addition of any which can be avoided. Good health 
is the prime requisite in the field. Without it you are 
lost. The only way in which to keep fit and ready to 
give every ounce of physical and mental energy to the 



THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 87 

problems of the day is to sleep comfortably, eat whole- 
some food, and be properly clothed. It is not often, 
then, that you will need a doctor. We have not as yet 
had a physician on any of our expeditions, even though 
we have often been very many miles from the nearest 
white men. 

It never ceases to amuse me that the insurance com- 
panies always cancel my accident policies as soon as I 
leave for the field. The excuse is that I am not a "good 
risk," although they are ready enough to renew them 
when I return to New York. And yet the average per- 
son has a hundred times more chance of being killed or 
injured right on Fifth Avenue than do we who live in 
the open, breathing God's fresh air and sleeping under 
the stars. My friend Stefansson, the Arctic explorer, 
often says that "adventures are a mark of incompe- 
tence," and he is doubtless right. If a man goes into the 
field with a knowledge of the country he is to visit and 
with a proper equipment, he probably will have very 
few "adventures." If he has not the knowledge and 
equipment he had much better remain at home, for he 
will inevitably come to grief. 

We learned from the Mongols that there was a won- 
derful shooting ground three hundred miles southwest 
of Urga in the country belonging to Sain Noin Khan. 
It was a region backed by mountains fifteen thousand 
feet in height, inhabited by bighorn sheep and ibex ; and 
antelope were reported to be numerous upon the plains 
which merged gradually into the sandy wastes of the 
western Gobi where herds of wild horses (Equus prje- 



88 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

valski) and wild asses (Equus hemionus) could be 
found. 

Sain Noin, one of the four Mongolian kings, had died 
only a short time earlier under suspicious circumstances, 
and his widow had just visited the capital. Monsieur 
Orlow, the Russian Diplomatic Agent, had written her 
regarding our prospective visit, and through him she 
had extended to us a cordial invitation. 

Our start from Urga was on a particularly beautiful 
day, even for Mongolia. The golden roof of the great 
white temple on the hill blazed with light, and the un- 
dulating crest of the Sacred Mountain seemed so near 
that we imagined we could see the deer and boar in its 
parklike openings. Our way led across the valley and 
over the Tola River just below the palace of the Liv- 
ing God. We climbed a long hill and emerged on a slop- 
ing plain where marmots were bobbing in and out of 
their burrows like toy animals manipulated by a string. 
Two great flocks of demoiselle cranes were daintily 
catching grasshoppers not a hundred yards away. We 
wanted both the cranes for dinner and the marmots for 
specimens, but we dared not shoot. Although not ac- 
tually upon sacred soil we were in close proximity to 
the Bogdo-ol and a rifle shot might have brought a 
horde of fanatical priests upon our heads. It is best to 
take no chances with religious superstitions, for the 
lamas do not wait to argue when they are once aroused. 

The first day began most beautifully, but it ended 
badly as all first days are apt to do. We met our 
"Waterloo" on a steep hill shortly after tiffin, for two 



THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 89 

of the horses absolutely refused to pull. The loads were 
evidently too heavy, and the outlook for the future was 
not encouraging. An extract from my wife's journal 
tells what we did that afternoon. 

"It took two hours to negotiate the hill, and the men 
were almost exhausted when the last load reached the 
summit. Ever since tiffin the sky had been growing 
darker and darker, and great masses of black clouds 
gathered about the crest of the Bogdo-ol. Suddenly a 
vivid flash of lightning cut the sky as though with a flam- 
ing knife, and the rain came down in a furious beat of icy 
water. In five minutes we were soaked and shivering 
with cold, so when at last we reached the plain we turned 
off the road toward two Mongol yurts, which rested be- 
side the river a mile away like a pair of great white birds. 

"Roy and I galloped ahead over the soft, slushy grass, 
nearly blinded by the rain, and hobbling our horses out- 
side the nearest yurt 3 went inside with only the formality 
of a shout. The room was so dark that I could hardly 
see, and the heavy smoke from the open fire burned and 
stung our eyes. On the floor sat a frowzy-looking 
woman, blowing at the fire, and a yellow lama, his saucer 
hat hidden under its waterproof covering — apparently 
he was a traveler like ourselves. 

"The frowzy lady smiled and motioned us to sit down 
on a low couch beside the door. As we did so, I saw a 
small face peering out of a big sheepskin coat and two 
black eyes staring at us unblinkingly. It was a little 
Mongol girl whose nap had been disturbed by so many 



90 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

visitors. She was rather a pretty little thing and so 
small — just a little older than my own baby in Peking 
— that I wanted to play with her. She was shy at first, 
but when I held out a picture advertisement from a 
package of cigarettes she gradually edged nearer, en- 
couraged by her mother. Soon she was leaning on my 
knee. Then without taking her black eyes from my face, 
she solemnly put one finger in her mouth and jerked it 
out with a loud 'pop,' much to her mother's gratifica- 
tion. But when she decided to crawl up into my lap, my 
interest began to wane, for she exuded such a concen- 
trated 'essence of Mongol' and rancid mutton fat that 
I was almost suffocated. 

"Our hostess was busy stirring a thick, white soup in 
a huge caldron, and by the time the carts arrived every 
one was dipping in with their wooden bowls. We 
begged to be excused, since we had already had some 
experience with Mongol soup. 

"The yurt really was not a bad place when we be- 
came accustomed to the bitter smoke and the combina- 
tion of native odors. There were two couches, about 
six inches from the ground, covered with sheepskins and 
furs. Opposite the door stood a chest — rather a nice 
one — on top of which was a tiny god with a candle burn- 
ing before it, and a photograph of the Hutukhtu." 

We had dinner in the yurt, and the boys slept there 
while we used our Mongol tent. There was no difficulty 
in erecting it even in the wind and rain, but it would 
have been impossible to have put up the American wall 



THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 91 

tent. Even though it was the fifth of June, there was 
a sharp frost during the night, and we were thankful 
for our fur sleeping bags. 

Always in Mongolia after a heavy rain the air is crys- 
tal-clear, and we had a delightful morning beside the 
river. Hundreds of demoiselle cranes were feeding in 
the meadowlike valley bottom where the grass was as 
green as emeralds. We saw two of the graceful birds 
standing on a sand bar and, as we rode toward them, 
they showed not the slightest sign of fear. When we 
were not more than twenty feet away they walked slowly 
about in a circle, and the lama discovered two spotted 
brown eggs almost under his pony's feet. There was no 
sign of a nest, but the eggs were perfectly protected by 
their resemblance to the stones. 

Our way led close along the Tola River, and just be- 
fore tiffin we saw a line of camels coming diagonally 
toward us from behind a distant hill. I wish you could 
have seen that caravan in all its barbaric splendor as it 
wound across the vivid green plains. Three lamas, 
dressed in gorgeous yellow robes, and two, in flaming 
red, rode ahead on ponies. Then neck and neck, 
mounted on enormous camels, came four men in gowns 
of rich maroon and a woman flashing with jewels and 
silver. Behind them, nose to tail, was the long, brown 
line of laden beasts. It was like a painting of the Mid- 
dle Ages — like a picture of the days of Kublai Khan, 
when the Mongol court was the most splendid the world 
has ever seen. My wife and I were fascinated, for this 
was the Mongolia of our dreams. 



92 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

But our second day was not destined to be one of un- 
alloyed happiness, for just after luncheon we reached a 
bad stretch of road alternating between jagged rocks 
and deep mud holes. The white horse, which was so 
quickly exhausted the day before, gave up absolutely 
when its cart became badly mired. Just then a red 
lama appeared with four led ponies and said that one of 
his horses could extricate the cart. He hitched a tiny 
brown animal between the shafts, we all put our shoul- 
ders to the wheels, and in ten minutes the load was on 
solid ground. We at once offered to trade horses, and 
by giving a bonus of five dollars I became the possessor 
of the brown pony. 

But the story does not end there. Two months later 
when we had returned to Urga a Mongol came to our 
camp in great excitement and announced that we had 
one of his horses. He said that five animals had been 
stolen from him and that the little brown pony for which 
I had traded with the lama was one of them. His proof 
was incontrovertible and according to the law of the 
country I was bound to give back the animal and accept 
the loss. However, a half dozen hard-riding Mongol 
soldiers at once took up the trail of the lama, and the 
chances are that there will be one less thieving priest 
before the incident is closed. 

It is interesting to note how a similarity of conditions 
in western America and in Mongolia has developed 
exactly the same attitude of mutual protection in regard 
to horses. In both countries horse-stealing is considered 
to be one of the worst crimes. It is punishable by death 



THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 93 

in Mongolia or, what is infinitely worse, by a life in one 
of the prison coffins. Moreover, the spirit of mutual 
assistance is carried further, and several times during 
the summer when our ponies had strayed miles from the 
tents they were brought in by passing Mongols, or we 
were told where they could be found. 

Our camp the second night was on a beautiful, grassy 
plateau beside a tiny stream, a tributary of the river. 
We put out a line of traps for small mammals, but in the 
morning were disappointed to find only three meadow 
mice (Microtus) . There were no fresh signs of mar- 
mots, hares, or other animals along the river, and I be- 
gan to suspect what eventually proved to be true, viz., 
that the valley was a favorite winter camping ground 
for Mongols, and that all the game had been killed or 
driven far away. Indeed, we had hardly been beyond 
sight of a yurt during the entire two days, and great 
flocks of sheep and goats were feeding on every grassy 
meadow. 

But the Mongols considered cartridges too precious 
to waste on birds and we saw many different species. 
The demoiselle cranes were performing their mating 
dances all about us, and while one was chasing a magpie 
it made the most amusing spectacle, as it hopped and 
flapped after the little black and white bird which kept 
just out of reach. 

Mongolian skylarks were continually jumping out of 
the grass from almost under our horses' feet to soar 
about our heads, flooding the air with song. Along the 
sand banks of the river we saw many flocks of swan 



94 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

geese {Cygnopsis cygnoides) . They are splendid fel- 
lows with a broad, brown band down the back of the 
neck, and are especially interesting as being the ances- 
tors of the Chinese domestic geese. They were not 
afraid of horses, but left immediately if a man on foot 
approached. I killed half a dozen by slipping off my 
pony, when about two hundred yards away, and walking 
behind the horses while Yvette rode boldly toward the 
flock, leading Kublai Khan. Twice the birds fell across 
the river, and we had to swim for them. My pony took 
to the water like a duck and when we had reached the 
other bank would arch his neck as proudly as though he 
had killed the bird himself. His keen interest in sport, 
his gentleness, and his intelligence won my heart at once. 
He would let me shoot from his back without the slight- 
est fear, even though he had never been used as a hunting 
pony by Prince Tze Tze from whom he had been pur- 
chased. 

In the ponds and among the long marsh grass we 
found the ruddy sheldrake (Casarca casarca), and the 
crested lapwing (Vanellus vanellus). They were like 
old friends, for we had met them first in far Yiin-nan 
and on the Burma frontier during the winter of 1916-17 
whence they had gone to escape the northern cold ; now 
they were on their summer breeding grounds. The shel- 
drakes glowed like molten gold when the sun found them 
in the grass, and we could not have killed the beautiful 
birds even had we needed them for food. Moreover, 
like the lapwings, they had a trusting simplicity, a way 
of throwing themselves on one's mercy, which was in- 



THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 95 

finitely appealing. We often hunted for the eggs of 
both the sheldrakes and lapwings. They must have been 
near by, we knew, for the old birds would fly about our 
heads uttering agonizing calls, but we never found the 
nests. 

I killed four light-gray geese with yellow bills and 
legs and narrow brown bars across the head, and a 
broad brown stripe down the back of the neck. I could 
only identify the species as the bar-headed goose of In- 
dia (Eulabeia indica) , which I was not aware ever trav- 
eled so far north to breed. Later I found my 
identification to be correct, and that the bird is an occa- 
sional visitor to Mongolia. We saw only one specimen 
of the bean goose {Anser fabalis) , the common bird of 
China, which I had expected would be there in thou- 
sands. There were a few mallards, redheads, and shov- 
eler ducks, and several bustards, besides half a dozen 
species of plover and shore birds. 

Except for these the trip would have been infinitely 
monotonous, for we were bitterly disappointed in the 
lack of animal life. Moreover, there was continual 
trouble with the carts, and on the third day I had to buy 
an extra horse. Although one can purchase a riding 
pony at any yurt, cart animals are not easy to find, for 
the Mongols use oxen or camels to draw most loads. 
The one we obtained had not been in the shafts for more 
than two years and was badly frightened when we 
brought him near the cart. It was a liberal education 
to see our Mongol handle that horse! He first put a 
hobble on all four legs, then he swung a rope about the 



96 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

hind quarters, trussed him tightly, and swung him into 
the shafts. When the pony was properly harnessed, he 
fastened the bridle to the rear of the other cart and drove 
slowly ahead. At first the horse tried to kick and 
plunge, but the hobbles held him fast and in fifteen min- 
utes he settled to the work. Then the Mongol removed 
the hobbles from the hind legs, and later left the pony 
entirely free. He walked beside the animal for a long 
time, and did not attempt to drive him from the cart 
for at least an hour. 

Although Mongols seem unnecessarily rough and al- 
most brutal, I do not believe that any people in the world 
can handle horses more expertly. From earliest child- 
hood their real home is the back of a pony. Every year, 
in the spring, a children's race is held at Urga. Boys 
and girls from four to six years old are tied on horses 
and ride at full speed over a mile-long course. If a 
child falls off it receives but scant sympathy and is 
strapped on again more tightly than before. A Mon- 
gol has no respect whatever for a man or woman who 
cannot ride, and nothing will win his regard as rapidly 
as expert horsemanship. Strangely enough the Mon- 
gols seldom show affection for their ponies, nor do they 
caress them in any way; consequently, the animals do 
not enjoy being petted and are prone to kick and bite. 
My pony, Kublai Khan, was an extraordinary exception 
to this rule and was as affectionate and gentle as a kit- 
ten — but there are few animals like Kublai Khan in 
Mongolia! 

The ponies are small, of course, but they are strong 



THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 97 

almost beyond belief, and can stand punishment that 
would kill an ordinary horse. The Mongols seldom 
ride except at a trot or a full gallop, and forty to fifty 
miles a day is not an unusual journey. Moreover, the 
animals are not fed grain; they must forage on the plains 
the year round. During the winter, when the grass is 
dry and sparse, they have poor feeding, but neverthe- 
less are able to withstand the extreme cold. They grow 
a coat of hair five or six inches in length, and when 
Kublai Khan arrived in Peking after his long journey 
across the plains he looked more like a grizzly bear than 
a horse. He had changed so completely from the sleek, 
fine-limbed animal we had known in Mongolia that 
my wife was almost certain he could not be the same 
pony. He had to be taught to eat carrots, apples, and 
other vegetables and would only sniff suspiciously at 
sugar. But in a very short time he learned all the tastes 
of his city-bred companions. 

Horses are cheap in Mongolia, but not extraordinarily 
so. In the spring a fair pony can be purchased for from 
thirty to sixty dollars (silver), and especially good ones 
bring as much as one hundred and fifty dollars. In the 
fall when the Mongols are confronted with a hard win- 
ter, which naturally exacts a certain toll from any herd, 
ponies sell for about two-thirds of their spring price. 

In Urga we had been led to believe that the entire trip 
to Sain Noin Khan's village could be done in eight days 
and that game was plentiful along the trail. We had 
already been on the road five days, making an average 
of twenty-five miles at each stage, and the natives as- 



98 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

sured us that it would require at least ten more days of 
steady travel before we could possibly arrive at our des- 
tination; if difficulties arose it might take even longer. 
Moreover, we had seen only one hare and one marmot, 
and our traps had yielded virtually nothing. It was 
perfectly evident that the entire valley had been de- 
nuded of animal life by the Mongols, and there was little 
prospect that conditions would change as long as we re- 
mained on such rich grazing grounds. 

It was hard to turn back and count the time lost, but 
it was certainly the wisest course for we knew that there 
was good collecting on the plains south of Urga, al- 
though the fauna would not be as varied as at the place 
we had hoped to reach. The summer in Mongolia is so 
short that every day must be made to count if results 
which are worth the money invested are to be obtained. 

Yvette and I were both very despondent that eve- 
ning when we decided it was necessary to turn back. It 
was one of those nights when I wished with all my heart 
that we could sit in front of our own camp fire without 
the thought of having to "make good" to any one but 
ourselves. However, once the decision was made, we 
tried to forget the past days and determined to make up 
for lost time in the future. 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 

On Monday, June 16, we left Urga to go south along 
the old caravan trail toward Kalgan. Only a few weeks 
earlier we had skimmed over the rolling surface in 
motor cars, crossing in one day then as many miles of 
plains as our own carts could do in ten. But it had an- 
other meaning to us now, and the first night as we sat 
at dinner in front of the tent and watched the after- 
glow fade from the sky behind the pine-crowned ridge 
of the Bogdo-ol, we thanked God that for five long 
months we could leave the twentieth century with its 
roar and rush, and live as the Mongols live; we knew 
that the days of discouragement had ended and that we 
could learn the secrets of the desert life which are yielded 
up to but a chosen few. 

Within twenty-five miles of Urga we had seen a 
dozen marmots and a species of gopher (Citellus) that 
was new to us. The next afternoon at two o'clock we 
climbed the last long slope from out the Tola River 
drainage basin, and reached the plateau which stretches 
in rolling waves of plain and desert to the frontier of 
China six hundred miles away. Before us three pools 
of water flashed like silver mirrors in the sunlight, and 
beyond them, tucked away in a sheltered corner of the 

99 



100 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

hills, stood a little temple surrounded by a cluster of 
gray- white yurts. 

Our Mongol learned that the next water was on the 
far side of a plain thirty-five miles in width, so we 
camped beside the largest pond. It was a beautiful 
spot with gently rolling hills on either side, and in front, 
a level plain cut by the trail's white line. 

As soon as the tents were up Yvette and I rode off, 
accompanied by the lama, carrying a bag of traps. 
Within three hundred yards of camp we found the first 
marmot. When it had disappeared underground we 
carefully buried a steel trap at the entrance of the hole 
and anchored it securely to an iron tent peg. With 
rocks and earth we plugged all the other openings, for 
there are usually five or six tunnels to every burrow. 
While the work was going on other marmots were 
watching us curiously from half a dozen mounds, and 
we set nine traps before it was time to return for dinner. 

The two Chinese taxidermists had taken a hundred 
wooden traps for smaller mammals, and before dark we 
inspected the places they had found. Already one of 
them held a gray meadow vole (Microtus) , quite a dif- 
ferent species from those which had been caught along 
the Tola River, and Yvette discovered one of the larger 
traps dragged halfway into a hole with a baby marmot 
safely caught. He was only ten inches long and cov- 
ered with soft yellow-white fur. 

Shortly after daylight the next morning the lama 
came to our tent to announce that there was a marmot 
in one of the traps. The boy was as excited as a child 



THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 101 

of ten and had been up at dawn. When we were dressed 
we followed the Mongol to the first burrow where a fine 
marmot was securely caught by the hind leg. A few 
yards away we had another female, and the third trap 
was pulled far into the hole. A huge male was at the 
other end, but he had twisted his body halfway around 
a curve in the tunnel and by pulling with all our strength 
the Mongol and I could not move him a single inch. 
Finally we gave up and had to dig him out. He had 
given a wonderful exhibition of strength for so small an 
animal. 

It was especially gratifying to catch these marmots so 
easily, for we had been told in Urga that the Mongols 
could not trap them. I was at a loss to understand 
why, for they are closely related to the "woodchucks" 
of America with which every country boy is familiar. 
Later I learned the reason for the failure of the natives. 
In the Urga market we saw some double-spring traps 
exactly like those of ours, but when I came to examine 
them I found they had been made in Russia, and the 
springs were so weak that they were almost useless. 
These were the only steel traps which the Mongols had 
ever seen. 

The marmots (Marmota robusta) were supposed to 
be responsible for the spread of the pneumonia plague 
which swept into northern China from Manchuria a few 
years ago; but I understand from physicians of the 
Rockefeller Foundation in Peking, who especially 
investigated the disease, that the animal's connection 
with it is by no means satisfactorily determined. 



V 



102 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

The marmots hibernate during the winter, and retire 
to their burrows early in October, not to emerge until 
April. When they first come out in the spring their fur 
is bright yellow, and the animals contrast beautifully 
with the green grass. After the middle of June the 
yellow fur begins to slip off in patches, leaving exposed 
the new coat, which is exceedingly short and is mouse- 
gray in color. Then, of course, the skins are useless for 
commercial purposes. As the summer progresses the 
fur grows until by September first it has formed a long, 
soft coat of rich gray-brown which is of considerable 
economic value. The skins are shipped to Europe and 
America and during the past winter (1919-1920) were 
especially popular as linings for winter coats. 

We had an opportunity to see how quickly the de- 
mand in the great cities reaches directly to the center of 
production thousands of miles away. When we went to 
Urga in May prime marmot skins were worth thirty 
cents each to the Mongols. Early in October, when we 
returned, the hunters were selling the same skins for 
one dollar and twenty- five cents apiece. 

The natives always shoot the animals. When a Mon- 
gol has driven one into its burrow, he lies quietly beside 
the hole waiting for the marmot to appear. It may be 
twenty minutes or even an hour, but the Oriental pa- 
tience takes little note of time. Finally a yellow head 
emerges and a pair of shining eyes glance quickly about 
in every direction. Of course, they see the Mongol but 
he looks only like a mound of earth, and the marmot 
raises itself a few inches higher. The hunter lies as 



THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 103 

motionless as a log of wood until the animal is well out 
of its burrow — then he shoots. 

The Mongols take advantage of the marmot's curi- 
osity in an amusing and even more effective way. With 
a dogskin tied to his saddle the native rides over the 
plain until he reaches a marmot colony. He hobbles his 
pony at a distance of three or four hundred yards, gets 
down on his hands and knees, and throws the dogskin 
over his shoulders. He crawls slowly toward the nearest 
animal, now and then stopping to bark and shake his 
head. In an instant, the marmot is all attention. He 
jumps up and down whistling and barking, but never 
venturing far from the opening of his burrow. 

As the pseudo-dog advances there seems imminent 
danger that the fat little body will explode from curi- 
osity and excitement. But suddenly the "dog" col- 
lapses in the strangest way and the marmot raises on 
the very tips of his toes to see what it is all about. Then 
there is a roar, a flash of fire and another skin is added 
to the millions which have already been sent to the sea- 
coast from outer Mongolia. 

Mr. Mamen often spoke of an extraordinary dance 
which he had seen the marmots perform, and when Mr. 
and Mrs. MacCallie returned to Kalgan they saw it also. 
We were never fortunate enough to witness it. Mac 
said that two marmots stood erect on their hind legs, 
grasping each other with their front paws, and danced 
slowly about exactly as though they were waltzing. He 
agreed with Mamen that it was the most extraordinary 
and amusing thing he had ever seen an animal do. I 



104 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

can well believe it, for the marmots have many curious 
habits which would repay close study. The dance could 
hardly be a mating performance since Mac saw it in 
late May and by that time the young had already been 
born. 

One morning at the "Marmot Camp," as we named 
the one where we first began real collecting, Yvette saw 
six or seven young animals on top of a mound in the 
green grass. We went there later with a gun and found 
the little fellows playing like kittens, chasing each other 
about and rolling over and over. It was hard to make 
myself bring tragedy into their lives, but we needed 
them for specimens. A group showing an entire mar- 
mot family would be interesting for the Museum; espe- 
cially so in view of their reported connection with the 
pneumonic plague. We collected a dozen others before 
the summer was over to show the complete transition 
from the first yellow coat to the gray-brown of winter. 

Like most rodents, the marmots grow rapidly and 
have so many young in every litter that they will not 
soon be exterminated in Mongolia unless the native 
hunters obtain American steel traps. Even then it 
would take some years to make a really alarming impres- 
sion upon the millions which spread over all the plains 
of northern Mongolia and Manchuria. 

Since these marmots are a distinctly northern animal 
they are a great help in determining the life zones of 
this part of Asia. We found that their southern limit 
is at Turin, one hundred and seventy-five miles from 
Urga. A few scattered families live there, but the real 



THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 105 

marmot country begins about twenty-five miles farther 
north. 

The first hunting camp was eighty miles south of 
Urga, after we had passed a succession of low hills and 
reached what, in prehistoric times, was probably a great 
lake basin. When our tents were pitched beside the 
well they seemed pitifully small in the vastness of the 
plain. The land rolled in placid waves to the far hori- 
zon on every hand. It was like a calm sea which is dis- 
turbed only by the lazy progress of the ocean swell. 
Two yurtSj like the sails of hull-down ships, showed 
black against the sky-rim where it met the earth. The 
plain itself seemed at first as flat as a table, for the 
swells merged indistinguishably into a level whole. It 
was only when approaching horsemen dipped for a little 
out of sight and the depressions swallowed them up that 
we realized the unevenness of the land. 

Camp was hardly made before our Mongol neighbors 
began to pay their formal calls. A picturesque fellow, 
blazing with color, would dash up to our tent at a full 
gallop, slide off and hobble his pony almost in a single 
motion. With a "sai bind" of greeting he would squat 
in the door, produce his bottle of snuff and offer us a 
pinch. There was a quiet dignity about these plains 
dwellers which was wonderfully appealing. They were 
seldom unduly curious, and when we indicated that the 
visit was at an end, they left at once. 

Sometimes they brought bowls of curded milk, or 
great lumps of cheese as presents, and in return we gave 
cigarettes or now and then a cake of soap. Having been 



106 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

told in Urga that soap was especially appreciated by the 
Mongols, I had brought a supply of red, blue, and green 
cakes which had a scent even more wonderful than the 
color. I can't imagine why they like it, for it is care- 
fully put away and never used. 

Strangely enough, the Mongols have no word for 
"thank you" other than "sai" (good), but when they 
wish to express approbation, and usually when saying 
"good-by," they put up the thumb with the fingers 
closed. In Yun-nan and eastern Tibet we noted the 
same custom among the aboriginal tribesmen. I won- 
der if it is merely a coincidence that in the gladiatorial 
contests of ancient Rome "thumbs up" meant mercy or 
approval! 

The Mongols told us that in the rolling ground to the 
east of camp we could surely find antelope. The first 
morning my wife and I went out alone. We trotted 
steadily for an hour, making for the summit of a rise 
seven or eight miles from camp. Yvette held the ponies, 
while I sat down to sweep the country with my glasses. 
Directly in front of us two small valleys converged into 
a larger one, and almost immediately I discovered half 
a dozen orange-yellow forms in its very bottom about 
two miles away. They were antelope quietly feeding. 
In a few moments I made out two more close together, 
and then four off at the right. After my wife had found 
them with her glasses we sat down to plan the stalk. 

It was obvious that we should try to cross the two 
small depressions which debouched into the main valley 
and approach from behind the hill crest nearest to the 



THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 107 

gazelles. We trotted slowly across the gully while the 
antelope were in sight, and then swung around at full 
gallop under the protection of the rising ground. We 
came up just opposite to the herd and dismounted, but 
were fully six hundred yards away. Suddenly one of 
those impulses which the hunter never can explain sent 
them off like streaks of yellow light, but they turned on 
the opposite hillside, slowed down, and moved uncer- 
tainly up the valley. 

Much to our surprise four of the animals detached 
themselves from the others and crossed the depression 
in our direction. When we saw that they were really 
coming we threw ourselves into the saddles and galloped 
forward to cut them off. Instantly the antelope in- 
creased their speed and literally flew up the hill slope. 
I shouted to Yvette to watch the holes and shook the 
reins over Kublai Khan's neck. Like a bullet he was 
off. I could feel his great muscles flowing between my 
knees but otherwise there seemed hardly a motion of 
his body in the long, smooth run. Standing straight up 
in the stirrups, I glanced back at my wife who was sit- 
ting her chestnut stallion as lightly as a butterfly. Hat 
gone, hair streaming, the thrill of it all showed in every 
line of her body. She was running a close second, almost 
at my side. I saw a marmot hole flash by. A second 
death trap showed ahead and I swung Kublai Khan to 
the right. Another and another followed, but the pony 
leaped them like a cat. The beat of the fresh, clean air; 
the rush of the splendid horse; the sight of the yellow 
forms fleeing like wind-blown ribbons across our path — 



108 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

all this set me mad with excitement and a wild exhilara- 
tion. Suddenly I realized that I was yelling like an 
Indian. Yvette, too, was screaming in sheer delight. 

The antelope were two hundred yards away when I 
tightened on the reins. Kublai Khan stiffened and 
stopped in twenty yards. The first shot was low and to 
the left, but it gave the range. At the second, the rear- 
most animal stumbled, recovered itself, and ran wildly 
about in a circle. I missed him twice, and he disap- 
peared over a little hill. Leaping into the saddle, we 
tore after the wounded animal. As we thundered over 
the rise I heard my wife screaming frantically and saw 
her pointing to the right where the antelope was lying 
down. There was just one more shell in the gun and my 
pockets were empty. I fired again at fifty yards and 
the gazelle rolled over, dead. 

Leading our horses, Yvette and I walked up to the 
beautiful orange-yellow form lying in the fresh, green 
grass. We both saw its horns in the same instant and 
hugged each other in sheer delight. At this time of the 
year the bucks are seldom with the does and then only 
in the largest herds. This one was in full pelage, spot- 
less and with the hair unworn. Moreover, it had finer 
horns than any other which we killed during the entire 
trip. 

Kublai Khan looked at the dead animal and arched 
his neck, as much as to say, "Yes, I ran him down. He 
had to quit when I really got started." My wife held 
the pony's head, while I hoisted the antelope to his back 
and strapped it behind the saddle. He watched the pro- 



THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 109 

ceedings interestedly but without a tremor, and even 
when I mounted, he paid not the slightest attention to 
the head dangling on his flanks. Thereby he showed 
that he was a very exceptional pony. In the weeks 
which followed he proved it a hundred times, and I came 
to love him as I have never loved another animal. 

Yvette and I trotted slowly back to camp, thrilled 
with the excitement of the wild ride. We began to real- 
ize that we were lucky to have escaped without broken 
necks. The race taught us never again to attempt to 
guide our ponies away from the marmot holes which 
spotted the plains, for the horses could see them better 
than we could and all their lives had known that they 
meant death. 

That morning was our initiation into what is the finest 
sport we have ever known. Hunting from a motor car 
is undeniably exciting at first, but a real sportsman can 
never care for it very long. The antelope does not have 
a chance against gas and steel and a long-range rifle. 
On horseback the conditions are reversed. An antelope 
can run twice as fast as the best horse living. It can 
see as far as a man with prism binoculars. All the odds 
are in the animal's favor except two — its fatal desire to 
run in a circle about the pursuer, and the use of a high- 
power rifle. But even then an antelope three hundred 
yards away, going at a speed of fifty miles an hour, is 
not an easy target. 

Of course, the majority of sportsmen will say that it 
cannot be done with any certainty — until they go to 
Mongolia and do it themselves ! But, as I remarked in 



110 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

a previous chapter, conditions on the plains are so un- 
usual that shooting in other parts of the world is no cri- 
terion. After one gets the range of an animal which, 
like the antelope, has a smooth, even run, it is not so 
difficult to hit as one might imagine. Practice is the 
great essential. At the beginning I averaged one an- 
telope to every eight cartridges, but later my score was 
one to three. 

We spent the afternoon at the new camp, setting 
traps and preparing for the days to come — days in 
which we knew, from long experience, we would have 
every waking moment full of work. The nights were 
shortening rapidly, and the sun did not dip below the 
rim of our vast, flat world until half past seven. Then 
there was an hour of delightful, lingering twilight, when 
the stars began to show in tiny points of light ; by nine 
o'clock the brooding silence of the Mongolian night had 
settled over all the plain. 

Daylight came at four o'clock, and before the sun 
rose we had finished breakfast. Our traps held five 
marmots and a beautiful golden-yellow polecat (Mus- 
tela) . I have never seen such an incarnation of fury as 
this animal presented. It might have been the original 
of the Chinese dragon, except for its small size. Its 
long, slender body twisted and turned with incredible 
swiftness, every hair was bristling, and its snarling little 
face emitted horrible squeaks and spitting squeals. It 
seemed to be cursing us in every language of the pole- 
cat tribe. 

The fierce little beast was evidently bent upon a night 



THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 111 

raid on a marmot family. We could imagine easily into 
what terror the tiny demon would throw a nest of mar- 
mots comfortably snuggled together in the bottom of 
their burrow. Probably it would be most interested in 
the babies, and undoubtedly would destroy every one 
within a few moments. All the weasel family, to which 
the polecat belongs, kill for the pure joy of killing, and 
in China one such animal will entirely depopulate a hen- 
roost in a single night. 

At six o'clock Yvette and I left camp with the lama 
and rode northeast. The plain swept away in long, 
grassy billows, and at every rise I stopped for a mo- 
ment to scan the horizon with my glasses. Within half 
an hour we discovered a herd of antelope six or seven 
hundred yards away. They saw us instantly and trotted 
nervously about, staring in our direction. 

Dropping behind the crest of the rise, I directed the 
lama to ride toward them from behind while we swung 
about to cut them off. He was hardly out of sight when 
we heard a snort and a rush of pounding hoofs. With a 
shout to Yvette I loosened the reins over Kublai Khan's 
neck, and he shot forward like a yellow arrow. Yvette 
was close beside me, leaning far over her pony's neck. 
We headed diagonally toward the herd, and they grad- 
ually swung toward us as though drawn by a powerful 
magnet. On we went, down into a hollow and up again 
on its slope. We could not spare the horses for the ante- 
lope were already over the crest and lost to view, but 
our horses took the hill at full speed, and from the sum- 



112 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

mit we could see the herd fairly on our course, three 
hundred yards away. 

Kublai Khan braced himself like a polo pony when 
he felt the pressure of my knees, and I opened fire al- 
most under his nose. At the crack of the rifle there was 
a spurt of brown dust near the leading animal. "High 
and to the left," shouted Yvette, and I held a little 
lower for the second trial. The antelope dropped like a 
piece of white paper, shot through the neck. I paced the 
distance and found it to be three hundred and sixty- 
seven yards. It seemed a very long shot then, but later 
I found that almost none of my antelope were killed at 
less than three hundred yards. 

As I came up to Kublai Khan with the dead animal, I 
accidentally struck him on the flank with my rifle in 
such a way that he was badly frightened. He galloped 
off, and Yvette had a hard chase before he finally al- 
lowed her to catch him. Had I been alone I should 
probably have had a long walk to camp. 

It taught us never to hunt without a companion, if it 
could possibly be avoided. If your horse runs away, you 
may be left many miles from water, with rather serious 
consequences. I think there is nothing which makes me 
feel more helpless than to be alone on the plains without 
a horse. Foi miles and miles there is only the rolling 
grassland or the wide sweep of desert, with never a 
house or tree to break the low horizon. It seems so 
futile to walk, your own legs carry you so slowly and 
such a pitifully short distance, in these vast spaces. 

To be left alone in a small boat on the open sea is 



THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 113 

exactly similar. You feel so very, very small and you 
realize then what an insignificant part of nature you 
really are. I have felt it, too, amid vast mountains when 
I have been toiling up a peak which stretched thousands 
of feet above me with others rearing their majestic 
forms on every side. Then, nature seems almost alive 
and full of menace; something to be fought and con- 
quered by brain and will. 

Early in our work upon the plains we learned how 
easy it is to lose one's way. The vast sea of land seems 
absolutely flat, but in reality it is a gently rolling surface 
full of slopes and hollows, every one of which looks ex- 
actly like the others. But after a time we developed a 
land sense. The Mongols all have it to an extraordinary 
degree. We could drop an antelope on the plain and 
leave it for an hour or more. With a quick glance about 
our lama would fix the place in his mind, and dash off 
on a chase which might carry us back and forth toward 
every point of the compass. When it was time to re- 
turn, he would head his pony unerringly for that single 
spot on the plain and take us back as straight as the 
flight of an arrow. 

At first it gave him unceasing enjoyment when we 
became completely lost, but in a very short time we 
learned to note the position of the sun, the character of 
the ground, and the direction of the wind. Then we 
began to have more confidence in ourselves. But only 
by years of training can one hope even to approximate 
the Mongols. They have been born and reared upon 
the plains, and have the inheritance of unknown genera- 



114 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

tions whose very life depended upon their ability to come 
and go at will. To them, the hills, the sun, the grass, 
the sand — all have become the street signs of the desert. 

In the afternoon of our second day I remained at the 
tents to measure specimens, while Yvette and the lama 
rode out toward the scene of our morning hunt to locate 
an antelope which one of our Mongol neighbors had re- 
ported dead not far away. At six o'clock they came gal- 
loping back with the news that there were two gazelles 
within three miles of camp. I saddled Kublai Khan and 
left with them at once. Twenty minutes of steady trot- 
ting brought us to the summit of a slope, where we could 
see the animals quietly feeding not five hundred yards 
away. 

It was just possible to stalk them for a long-range 
shot, and slipping off my pony, I flattened out upon 
the ground. On hands and knees, and sometimes at full 
length, I wormed my way through the grass for one 
hundred yards. The cover ended there and I must shoot 
or come into full view of the gazelles. They were so far 
away that the front sight entirely covered the animals, 
and to increase the difficulty, both were walking slowly. 
The first bullet struck low and to the right, but the 
antelope only jumped and stared fixedly in my direc- 
tion ; at the second shot one went down. The other ani- 
mal dashed away like a flash of lightning, and although 
I sent a bullet after its white rump-patch, the shot was 
hopeless. 

The antelope I had knocked over got to its feet and 
tried desperately to get away, but the lama leaped on 



THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 115 

his pony and caught it by one hind leg. My automatic 
pistol was not in working order, and it was necessary to 
knife the poor beast — a job which I hate like poison. 
The lama walked away a dozen yards and covered his 
face with the sleeve of his gown. It is against the laws 
of the Buddhist religion to take the life of any animal or 
even to see it done, although there are no restrictions as 
to eating flesh. 

With a blanket the Mongol made a seat for himself 
on his pony's haunches, and threw the antelope across 
his saddle ; then we trotted back to camp into the painted 
western sky, with the cool night air bringing to us the 
scent of newborn grass. We would not have exchanged 
our lot that night with any one on earth. 



CHAPTER IX 

HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 

After ten days we left the "Antelope Camp" to visit 
the Turin plain where we had seen much game on the 
way to Urga. One by one our Mongol neighbors rode 
up to say "farewell," and each to present us with a silk 
scarf as a token of friendship and good will. We re- 
ceived an invitation to stop for tea at the yurt of an old 
man who had manifested an especial interest in us, but 
it was a very dirty yurt, and the preparations for tea 
were so uninviting that we managed to exit gracefully 
before it was finally served. 

Yvette photographed the entire family including half 
a dozen dogs, a calf, and two babies, much to their en- 
joyment. When we rode off, our hands were heaped 
with cheese and slabs of mutton which were discarded 
as soon as we had dropped behind a slope. Mongol hos- 
pitality is whole-souled and generously given, but one 
must be very hungry to enjoy their food. 

A day and a half of traveling was uneventful, for 
herds of sheep and horses indicated the presence of yurts 
among the hills. Game will seldom remain where there 
are Mongols. Although it was the first of July, we 
found a heavy coating of ice on the lower sides of a deep 
well. The water was about fifteen feet below the level 

116 



HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 117 

of the plain, and the ice would probably remain all sum- 
mer. Moreover, it is said that the wells never freeze 
even during the coldest winter. 

The changes of temperature were more rapid than in 
any other country in which I have ever hunted. It was 
hot during the day — about 85° Fahrenheit — but the in- 
stant the sun disappeared we needed coats, and our fur 
sleeping bags were always acceptable at night. 

We were one hundred and fifty miles from Urga and 
were still going slowly south, when we had our next real 
hunting camp. Great bands of antelope were working 
northward from the Gobi Desert to the better grazing 
on the grass-covered Turin plain. We encountered the 
main herd one evening about six o'clock, and it was a 
sight which made us gasp for breath. We were shifting 
camp, and my wife and I were trotting along parallel 
to the carts which moved slowly over the trail a mile 
away. We had had a delightful, as well as a profitable, 
day. Yvette had been busy with her camera, while I 
picked up an antelope, a bustard, three hares, and half 
a dozen marmots. We were loafing in our saddles, when 
suddenly we caught sight of the cook standing on his 
cart frantically signaling us to come. 

In ten seconds our ponies were flying toward the cara- 
van, while we mentally reviewed every accident which 
possibly could have happened to the boys. Lii met us 
twenty yards from the trail, trembling with excitement 
and totally incoherent. He could only point to the 
south and stammer, "Too many antelope. Over there. 
Too many, too many." 



118 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

I slipped off Kublai Khan's back and put up the 
glasses. Certainly there were animals, but I thought 
they must be sheep or ponies. Hundreds were in sight, 
feeding in one vast herd and in many smaller groups. 
Then I remembered that the nearest well was twenty 
miles away ; therefore they could not be horses. I looked 
again and knew they must be antelope — not in hun- 
dreds, but in thousands. 

Mr. Larsen in Urga had told us of herds like this, but 
we had never hoped to see one. Yet there before us, 
as far as the eye could reach, was a yellow mass of mov- 
ing forms. In a moment Yvette and I had left the 
carts. There was no possibility of concealment, and our 
only chance was to run the herd. When we were per- 
haps half a mile away the nearest animals threw up their 
heads and began to stamp and run about, only to stop 
again and stare at us. We kept on very slowly, edging 
nearer every moment. Suddenly they decided that we 
were really dangerous, and the herd strung out like a 
regiment of yellow-coated soldiers. 

Kublai Khan had seen the antelope almost as soon as 
we left the carts, and although he had already traveled 
forty miles that day, was nervously champing the bit 
with head up and ears erect. When at last I gave him the 
word, he gathered himself for one terrific spring; down 
went his head and he dashed forward with every ounce 
of strength behind his flying legs. His run was the 
long, smooth stride of a thoroughbred, and it sent the 
blood surging through my veins in a wild thrill of ex- 
hilaration. Once only I glanced back at Yvette. She 



HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 119 

was almost at my side. Her hair had loosened and was 
flying back like a veil behind her head. Tense with ex- 
citement, eyes shining, she was heedless of everything 
save those skimming yellow forms before us. It was 
useless to look for holes ; ere I had seen one we were over 
or around it. With head low down and muzzle out, my 
pony needed not the slightest touch to guide him. He 
knew where we were going and the part he had to 
play. 

More than a thousand antelope were running diag- 
onally across our course. It was a sight to stir the gods ; 
a thing to give one's life to see. But when we were 
almost near enough to shoot, the herd suddenly swerved 
heading directly away from us. In an instant we were 
enveloped in a whirling cloud of dust through which the 
flying animals were dimly visible like phantom figures. 
Kublai Khan was choked, and his hot breath rasped 
sharply through his nostrils, but he plunged on and on 
into that yellow cloud. Standing in my stirrups, I fired 
six times at the wraithlike forms ahead as fast as I could 
work the lever of my rifle. Of course, it was useless, but 
just the same I had to shoot. 

In about a mile the great herd slowed down and 
stopped. We could see hundreds of animals on every 
side, in groups of fifty or one hundred. Probably two 
thousand antelope were in sight at once and many more 
were beyond the sky rim to the west. We gave the 
ponies ten minutes' rest, and had another run as unsuc- 
cessful as the first. Then a third and fourth. The ante- 
lope, for some strange reason, would not cross our path, 



120 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

but always turned straight away before we were near 
enough to shoot. 

After an hour we returned to the carts — for Yvette 
was exhausted from excitement — and the lama took her 
place. We left the great herd and turned southward, 
parallel to the road. A mile away we found more ante- 
lope; at least a thousand were scattered about feeding 
quietly like those we had driven north. It seemed as 
though all the gazelles in Mongolia had concentrated on 
those few miles of plain. 

The ponies were so exhausted that we decided to try 
a drive and leave the main herd in peace. When we 
were concealed from view in the bottom of a land swell 
I slipped off and hobbled Kublai Khan. The poor fel- 
low was so tired he could only stand with drooping head, 
even though there was rich grass beneath his feet. I 
sent the lama in a long circle to get behind the herd, 
while I crawled a few hundred yards away and snuggled 
out of sight into an old wolf den. 

I watched the antelope for fifteen minutes through 
my binoculars. They were feeding in a vast semicircle, 
entirely unconscious of my presence. Suddenly every 
head went up ; they stared fixedly toward the west for 
a moment, and were off like the wind. About five hun- 
dred drew together in a compact mass, but a dozen 
smaller herds scattered wildly, running in every direc- 
tion except toward me. They had seen the lama before 
he had succeeded in completely encircling them, and the 
drive was ruined. 

The Mongols kill great numbers of antelope in just 



HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 121 

this way. When a herd has been located, a line of men 
will conceal themselves at distances of two or three hun- 
dred yards, while as many more get behind the animals 
and drive them toward the waiting hunters. Sometimes 
the gazelles almost step on the natives and become so 
frightened that they run the gantlet of the entire firing 
line. 

I did not have the heart to race again with our ex- 
hausted ponies, and we turned back toward the carts 
which were out of sight. Scores of antelope, singly or 
in pairs, were visible on the sky line and as we rode to 
the summit of a little rise a herd of fifty appeared al- 
most below us. We paid no attention to them ; but sud- 
denly my pony stopped with ears erect. He looked back 
at me, as much as to say, "Don't you see those ante- 
lope?" and began gently pulling at the reins. I could 
feel him tremble with eagerness and excitement. "Well, 
old chap,'' I said, "if you are as keen as all that, let's 
give them a run." 

With a magnificent burst of speed Kublai Khan 
launched himself toward the fleeing animals. They 
circled beautifully, straight into the eye of the sun, which 
lay like a great red ball upon the surface of the plain. 
We were still three hundred yards away and gaining 
rapidly, but I had to shoot; in a moment I would be 
blinded by the sun. As the flame leaped from my rifle, 
we heard the dull thud of a bullet on flesh ; at the second 
shot, another; and then a third. "Sang a 3 (three), 
yelled the lama, and dashed forward, wild with excite- 
ment. 



v 



122 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

The three gazelles lay almost the same distance apart, 
each one shot through the body. It was interesting evi- 
dence that the actions of working the lever on my rifle 
and aiming, and the speed of the antelope, varied only 
by a fraction of a second. In this case, brain and eye 
and hand had functioned perfectly. Needless to say, I 
do not always shoot like that. 

Two of the antelope were yearling bucks, and one was 
a large doe. The lama took the female on his pony, 
and I strapped the other two on Kublai Khan. When 
I mounted, he was carrying a weight of two hundred 
and eighty-five pounds, yet he kept his steady "home- 
ward trot" without a break until we reached the carts 
six miles away. 

Yvette had been afraid that we would miss the well 
in the gathering darkness, and had made a "dry camp" 
beside the road. We had only a little water for our- 
selves ; but my pony's nose was full of dust, and I knew 
how parched his throat must be, so I divided my sup- 
ply with him. The poor animal was so frightened by 
the dish, that he would only snort and back away; even 
when I wet his nose with some of the precious fluid, he 
would not drink. 

The success of our work upon the plains depended 
largely upon Kublai Khan. He was only a Mongol 
pony but he was just as great, in his own way, as was 
the Tartar emperor whose name he bore. Whatever 
it was I asked him to do, he gave his very best. Can 
you wonder that I loved him? 

Within a fortnight from the time I bought him, he 



HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 123 

became a perfect hunting pony. The secret of it all 
was that he liked the game as well as I. Traveling with 
the carts bored him exceedingly but the instant game 
appeared he was all excitement. Often he saw an- 
telope before we did. We might be trotting slowly 
over the plains, when suddenly he would jerk his head 
erect and begin to pull gently at the reins; when I 
reached down to take my rifle from the holster, he 
would tremble with eagerness to be off. 

In hunting antelope you should ride slowly toward 
the animals, drawing nearer gradually. They are so 
accustomed to see Mongols that they will not begin 
to run in earnest until a man is five or six hundred 
yards away, but when they are really off, a fast pony 
is the great essential. The time to stop is just before 
the animals cross your path, and then you must stop 
quickly. Kublai Khan learned the trick immediately. 
As soon as he felt the pressure of my knees, and the 
slightest pull upon the reins, his whole body stiffened 
and he braced himself like a polo pony. It made not 
the slightest difference to him whether I shot from 
his back or directly under his nose; he stood quietly 
watching the running antelope. When we were rid- 
ing across the plains if a bird ran along the ground or 
a hare jumped out of the grass, he was after it like a 
dog. Often I would find myself flying toward an ani- 
mal which I had never seen. 

Yvette's pony was useless for hunting antelope. In- 
stead of heading diagonally toward the gazelles he 
would always attempt to follow the herd. When it 



124 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

was time to stop I would have to put all my strength 
upon the reins and the horse would come into a slow 
gallop and then a trot. Seconds of valuable time would 
be wasted before I could begin to shoot. I tried half 
a dozen other ponies, but they were all as bad. They 
did not have the intelligence or the love of hunting 
which made Kublai Khan so valuable. 

The morning after encountering the great herd, we 
camped at a well thirty miles north of the Turin mon- 
astery. Three or four yurts were scattered about, and 
a caravan of two hundred and fifty camels was rest- 
ing in a little hollow. From the door of our tent we 
could see the blue summit of the Turin "mountain," 
and have in the foreground a perpetual moving picture 
of camels, horses, sheep, goats, and cattle seeking water. 
All day long hundreds of animals crowded about the 
well, while one or two Mongols filled the troughs by 
means of wooden buckets. 

The life about the wells is always interesting, for they 
are points of concentration for all wanderers on the 
plains. Just as we pitch our tents and make ourselves 
at home, so great caravans arrive with tired, laden 
camels. The huge brutes kneel, while their packs are 
being removed, and then stand in a long line, patiently 
waiting until their turn comes to drink. Groups of ten 
or twelve crowd about the trough; then, majestically 
swinging their padded feet, they move slowly to one 
side, kneel upon the ground, and sleepily chew their 
cuds until all the herd has joined them. Sometimes the 
caravans wait for several days to rest their animals and 



HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 125 

let them feed; sometimes they vanish in the first gray 
light of dawn. 

On the Turin plain we had a delightful glimpse of 
antelope babyhood. The great herds which we had 
found were largely composed of does just ready to drop 
their young, and after a few days they scattered widely 
into groups of from five to twenty. 

We found the first baby antelope on June 27. 
We had seen half a dozen females circling restlessly 
about, and suspected that their fawns could not be far 
away. Sure enough, our Mongol discovered one of the 
little fellows in the flattest part of the flat plain. It 
was lying motionless with its neck stretched out, just 
where its mother had told it to remain when she saw us 
riding toward her. 

Yvette called to me, "Oh, please, please catch it. We 
can raise it on milk and it will make such an adorable 
pet." 

"Oh, yes," I said, "let's do. I'll get it for you. You 
can put it in your hat till we go back to camp." 

In blissful ignorance I dismounted and slowly went 
toward the little animal. There was not the slightest 
motion until I tossed my outspread shooting coat. 
Then I saw a flash of brown, a bobbing white rump- 
patch, and a tiny thing, no larger than a rabbit, speed- 
ing over the plain. The baby was somewhat "wab- 
bly," to be sure, for this was probably the first time 
it had ever tried its slender legs, but after a few hun- 
dred yards it ran as steadily as its mother. 

I was so surprised that for a moment I simply stared. 



126 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Then I leaped into the saddle and Kublai Khan rushed 
after the diminutive brown fawn. It was a good half 
mile before we had the little chap under the pony's 
nose but the race was by no means ended. Mewing 
with fright, it swerved sharply to the left and ere we 
could swing about, it had gained a hundred yards. 
Again and again we were almost on it, but every time 
it dodged and got away. After half an hour my pony 
was gasping for breath, and I changed to Yvette's 
chestnut stallion. The Mongol joined me and we had 
another run, but we might have been pursuing a streak 
of shifting sunlight. Finally we had to give it up and 
watch the tiny thing bob away toward its mother, who 
was circling about in the distance. 

There were half a dozen other fawns upon the plain, 
but they all treated us alike and my wife's hat was 
empty when we returned to camp. These antelope 
probably had been born not more than two or three 
days before we found them. Later, after a chase of 
more than a mile, we caught one which was only a few 
hours old. Had it not injured itself when dodging be- 
tween my pony's legs we could never have secured it 
at all. 

Thus, nature, in the great scheme of life, has pro- 
vided for her antelope children by blessing them with 
undreamed-of speed and only during the first days of 
babyhood could a wolf catch them on the open plain. 
When they are from two to three weeks old they run 
with the females in herds of six or eight, and you cannot 
imagine what a pretty sight it is to see the little fellows 



HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 127 

skimming like tiny, brown chickens beside their moth- 
ers. There is another wonderful provision for their 
life upon the desert. The digestive fluids of the stom- 
ach act upon the starch in the vegetation which they 
eat so that it forms sufficient water for their needs. 
Therefore, some species never drink. 

The antelope choose a flat plain on which to give birth 
to their young in order to be well away from the wolves 
which are their greatest enemy; and the fawns are 
taught to lie absolutely motionless upon the ground 
until they know that they have been discovered. Ap- 
parently they are all born during the last days of June 
and in the first week of July. The great herds which 
we encountered were probably moving northward both 
to obtain better grazing and to drop their young on 
the Turin plain. During this period the old bucks go 
off singly into the rolling ground, and the herds are 
composed only of does and yearling males. It was al- 
ways possible to tell at once if an antelope had a fawn 
upon the plain, for she would run in a wide circle around 
the spot and refuse to be driven away. 

We encountered only two species of antelope between 
Kalgan and Urga. The one of which I have been writ- 
ing, and with which we became best acquainted, was the 
Mongolian gazelle (Gazella gutturosa). The other 
was the goitered gazelle (Gazella sub gutturosa) . In 
the western Gobi, the Prjevalski gazelle (Gazella 
prjevalski) is more abundant than the other species, 
but it never reaches the region which we visited. 

The goitered antelope is seldom found on the rolling 



128 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

meadowlands between Kalgan and Panj-kiang on the 
south, or between Turin and Urga on the north, ac- 
cording to our observations; they keep almost entirely 
to the Gobi Desert between Panj-kiang and Turin, and 
we often saw them among the "nigger heads" or tus- 
socks in the most arid parts. The Mongolian gazelle, 
on the other hand, is most abundant in the grasslands 
both north and south of the Gobi, but nevertheless has 
a continuous distribution across the plateau between 
Kalgan and Urga. 

On our northward trip in May, when we took motion 
pictures of the antelope on the Panj-kiang plain, both, 
species were present, but the goitered gazelle far out- 
numbered the others — which is unusual in that locality. 
It could always be distinguished from the Mongolian 
gazelle because of its smaller size, darker coloring, and 
the long tail which it carries straight up in the air at 
right angles to the back; the Mongolian antelope has 
an exceedingly short tail. The horns of both species 
differ considerably in shape and can easily be distin- 
guished. 

During the winter these antelope develop a coat of 
very long, soft hair which is light brown-gray in color 
strongly tinged with rufous on the head and face. Its 
summer pelage is a beautiful orange-fawn. The win- 
ter coat is shed during May, and the animals lose their 
short summer hair in late August and early September. 

Both species have a greatly enlarged larynx from 
which the goitered gazelle derives its name. What pur- 
pose this extraordinary character serves the animal, I 



HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 129 

am at a loss to know. Certainly it is not to give them 
an exceptional "voice"; for, when wounded, I have 
heard them make only a deep -toned roar which was by 
no means loud. Specimens of the larynx which we 
preserved in formalin are now being prepared for 
anatomical study. 

Although the two species inhabit the same locality, 
they keep well by themselves and only once, on the 
Panj-kiang plain, did we see them running together in 
the same herd ; then it was probably because they were 
frightened by the car. I doubt if they ever interbreed 
except in rare instances. 

The fact that these animals can develop such an ex- 
traordinary speed was a great surprise to me, as un- 
doubtedly it will be to most naturalists. Had we not 
been able to determine it accurately by means of the 
speedometers on our cars, I should never have dared 
state that they could reach fifty-five or sixty miles an 
hour. It must be remembered that the animals can 
continue at such a high speed only for a short distance 
— perhaps half a mile — and will never exert themselves 
to the utmost unless they are thoroughly frightened. 
They would run just fast enough to keep well away 
from the cars or our horses, and it was only when we 
began to shoot that they showed what they were capable 
of doing. When the bullets began to scatter about them 
they would seem to flatten several inches and run at 
such a terrific speed that their legs appeared only as a 
blur. 

Of course, they have developed their fleetness as a 



130 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

protection from enemies. Their greatest menace is the 
wolves, but since we demonstrated that these animals 
cannot travel faster than about thirty miles an hour, 
the antelope are perfectly safe unless they happen to 
be caught off their guard. To prevent just this, the 
gazelles usually keep well out on the open plains and 
avoid rocks or abrupt hills which would furnish coyer 
for a wolf. Of course, they often go into the rolling 
ground, but it is usually where the slopes are gradual 
and where they have sufficient space in which to pro- 
tect themselves. 

The gazelles have a perfectly smooth, even run when 
going at full speed. I have often seen them bound 
along when not particularly frightened, but never when 
they are really trying to get away in the shortest pos- 
sible time. The front limbs, as in the case of a deer, 
act largely as supports and the real motive power 
comes from the hind legs. If an antelope has only a 
front leg broken no living horse can catch it, but with 
a shattered hind limb my pony could run it down. I 
have already related (see page 49) how, in a car, we 
pursued an antelope with both front legs broken below 
the knee ; even then, it reached a speed of fifteen miles 
an hour. The Mongolian plains are firm and hard 
with no bushes or other obstructions and, consequently, 
are especially favorable for rapid travel. 

The cheetah, or hunting leopard of Africa, has the 
reputation of being able to reach a greater speed, for 
a short dash, than any other animal in that country, 
and I have often wondered how it would fare in a race 



HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 131 

with a Mongolian gazelle. Unfortunately, conditions 
in Africa are not favorable for the use of automobiles 
in hunting, and no actual facts as to the speed of the 
cheetah are available. 

At this camp, and during the journey back to Urga, 
we had many glorious hunts. Each one held its own 
individual fascination, for no two were just alike; and 
every day we learned something new about the life his- 
tory of the Mongolian antelope. We needed speci- 
mens for a group in the new Hall of Asiatic Life in the 
American Museum of Natural History, as well as a 
series representing all ages of both males and females 
for scientific study. When we returned to Urga we 
had them all. 

The hunting of large game was only one aspect of 
our work. We usually returned to camp about two 
o'clock in the afternoon. As soon as tiffin had been 
eaten my wife worked at her photography, while I bus- 
ied myself over the almost innumerable details of the 
preparation and cataloguing of our specimens. About 
six o'clock, accompanied by the two Chinese taxi- 
dermists carrying bags of traps, we would leave the 
tents. Sometimes we would walk several miles, mean- 
while carefully scrutinizing the ground for holes or 
traces of mammal workings, and set eighty or one hun- 
dred traps. We might find a colony of meadow voles 
(Microtus) where dozens of "runways" betrayed their 
presence, or discover the burrows of the desert hamster 
{Cricetulus) . These little fellows, not larger than a 



132 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

house mouse, have their tiny feet enveloped in soft fur, 
like the slippers of an Eskimo baby. 

As we walked back to camp in the late afternoon, 
we often saw a kangaroo rat (Alactaga mongolica?) 
jumping across the plain, and when we had driven it 
into a hole, we could be sure to catch it in a trap the 
following morning. They are gentle little creatures, 
with huge, round eyes, long, delicate ears, and tails 
tufted at the end like the feathers on an arrow's shaft. 
The name expresses exactly what they are like — di- 
minutive kangaroos — but, of course, they are rodents 
and not marsupials. During the glacial period of the 
early Pleistocene, about one hundred thousand years 
ago, we know from fossil remains that there were great 
invasions into Europe of most of these types of tiny 
mammals, which we were catching during this delightful 
summer on the Mongolian plains. 

After two months we regretfully turned back toward 
Urga. Our summer was to be divided between the 
plains on the south and the forests to the north of the 
sacred city, and the first half of the work had been 
completed. The results had been very satisfactory, and 
our boxes contained five hundred specimens; but our 
hearts were sad. The wide sweep of the limitless, 
grassy sea, the glorious morning rides, and the magic 
of the starlit nights had filled our blood. Even the 
lure of the unknown forests could not make us glad 
to go, for the plains had claimed us as their own. 



CHAPTER X 

AN ADVENTURE IN THE LAMA CITY 

Late on a July afternoon my wife and I stood dis- 
consolately in the middle of the road on the outskirts 
of Urga. We had halted because the road had ended 
abruptly in a muddy river. Moreover, the river was 
where it had no right to be, for we had traveled that 
road before and had found only a tiny trickle across its 
dusty surface. We were disconsolate because we 
wished to camp that night in Urga, and there were 
abundant signs that it could not be done. 

At least the Mongols thought so, and we had learned 
that what a Mongol does not do had best "give us 
pause." They had accepted the river with Oriental 
philosophy and had made their camps accordingly. Al- 
ready a score of tents dotted the hillside, and argul 
fires were smoking in the doorways. Hundreds of carts 
were drawn up in an orderly array while a regiment 
of oxen wandered about the hillside or sleepily chewed 
their cuds beside the loads. In a few hours or days or 
weeks the river would disappear, and then they would 
go on to Urga. Meanwhile, why worry? 

Two adventurous spirits, with a hundred camels, tried 
to cross. We watched the huge beasts step majes- 
tically into the water, only to huddle together in a yel- 

133 



134, ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

low-brown mass when they reached midstream. All 
their dignity fled, and they became merely frightened 
mountains of flesh amid a chaos of writhing necks and 
wildly switching tails. 

But stranger still was a motor car standing on a 
partly submerged island between two branches of the 
torrent. We learned later that its owners had suc- 
cessfully navigated the first stream and entered the sec- 
ond. A flooded carburetor had resulted, and ere the 
car was again in running order, the water had risen 
sufficiently to maroon them on the island. 

My wife and I both lack the philosophical nature 
of the Oriental, and it was a sore trial to camp within 
rifle shot of Urga. But we did not dare leave our 
carts, loaded with precious specimens, to the care of 
servants and the curiosity of an ever increasing horde 
of Mongols. 

For a well-nigh rainless month we had been hunting 
upon the plains, while only one hundred and fifty miles 
away Urga had had an almost daily deluge. In mid- 
summer heavy rain-clouds roll southward to burst 
against "God's Mountain," which rears its green-clad 
summits five thousand feet above the valley. Then it 
is only a matter of hours before every streamlet be- 
comes a swollen torrent. But they subside as quickly 
as they rise, and the particular river which barred our 
road had lost its menace before the sun had risen in a 
cloudless morning sky. All the valley seemed in mo- 
tion. We joined the motley throng of camels, carts, 
and horsemen; and even the motor car coughed and 



X 




r 




AN ADVENTURE IN THE LAMA CITY 135 

wheezed its way to Urga under the stimulus of two 
bearded Russians. 

We made our camp on a beautiful bit of lawn within 
a few hundred yards of one of the most interesting 
of all the Urga temples. It is known to the foreigners 
in the city as "God's Brother's House," for it was the 
residence of the Hutukhtu's late brother. The temple 
presents a bewildering collection of carved gables and 
gayly painted pavilions flaunting almost every color of 
the rainbow. Yvette and I were consumed with curi- 
osity to see what was contained within the high pali- 
sades which surround the buildings. We knew it would 
be impossible to obtain permission for her to go inside, 
and one evening as we were walking along the walls we 
glanced through the open gate. No one was in sight 
and from somewhere in the far interior we heard the 
moaning chant of many voices. Evidently the lamas 
were at their evening prayers. 

We stepped inside the door intending only to take 
a rapid look. The entire court was deserted, so we 
slipped through the second gate and stood just at the 
entrance of the main temple, the "holy of holies." In 
the half darkness we could see the tiny points of yel- 
low light where candles burned before the altar. On 
either side was a double row of kneeling lamas, their 
wailing chant broken by the clash of cymbals and the 
boom of drums. 

Beside the temple were a hideous foreign house and 
an enormous yurt — evidently the former residences of 
"God's Brother"; in the corners of the compound were 



136 



ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



ornamental pavilions painted green and red. Except 
for these, the court was empty. 

Suddenly there was a stir among the lamas, and we 
dashed away like frightened rabbits, dodging behind 
the gateposts until we were safe outside. It was not 
until some days later that we learned what a really 
dangerous thing it was to do, for the temple is one of 
the holiest in Urga, and in it women are never allowed. 
Had a Mongol seen us, our camp would have been 
stormed by a mob of frenzied lamas. 

A tew days later we had an experience which dem- 
onstrates how quickly trouble can arise where religious 
superstitions are involved. My wife and I had put 
the motion picture camera in one of the carts and, with 
our Mongol driving, went to the summit of the hill 
above the Lama City to film a panoramic view of Urga. 
We, ourselves, were on horseback. After getting the 
pictures, we drove down the main street of the city 
and stopped before the largest temple, which I had 
photographed several times before. 

As soon as the motion picture machine was in posi- 
tion, about five hundred lamas gathered about us. It 
was a good-natured crowd, however, and we had almost 
finished work, when a "black Mongol" (i.e., one with 
a queue, not a lama) pushed his way among the priests 
and began to harangue them violently. In a few mo- 
ments he boldly grasped me by the arm. Fearing that 
trouble might arise, I smiled and said, in Chinese, 
that we were going away. The Mongol began to ges- 
ticulate wildly and attempted to pull me with him far- 



AN ADVENTURE IN THE LAMA CITY 137 

ther into the crowd of lamas, who also were becoming 
excited. I was being separated from Yvette, and real- 
izing that it would be dangerous to get far away from 
her, I suddenly wrenched my arm free and threw the 
Mongol to the ground; then I rushed through the line 
of lamas surrounding Yvette, and we backed up against 
the cart. 

I had an automatic pistol in my pocket, but it would 
have been suicide to shoot except as a last resort. When 
a Mongol "starts anything" he is sure to finish it; he is 
not like a Chinese, who will usually run at the first 
shot. We stood for at least three minutes with that 
wall of scowling brutes ten feet away. They were un- 
decided what to do and were only waiting for a leader 
to close in. One huge beast over six feet tall was just 
in front of me, and as I stood with my fingers crooked 
about the trigger of the automatic in my pocket, I 
thought, "If you start, I'm going to nail you any- 
way." 

Just at this moment of indecision our Mongol leaped 
on my wife's pony, shouted that he was going to Duke 
Loobitsan Yangsen, an influential friend of ours, and 
dashed away. Instantly attention turned from us to 
him. Fifty men were on horseback in a second, fly- 
ing after him at full speed. I climbed into the cart, 
shouting to Yvette to jump on Kublai Khan and run; 
but she would not leave me. At full speed we dashed 
down the hill, the plunging horses scattering lamas right 
and left. Our young Mongol had saved us from a sit- 
uation which momentarily might have become critical. 



138 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

At the entrance to the main street of Urga below 
the Lama City I saw the black Mongol who had started 
all the trouble. I jumped to the ground, seized him 
by the collar and one leg, and attempted to throw him 
into the cart for I had a little matter to settle with 
him which could best be done to my satisfaction where 
we were without spectators. 

At the same instant a burly policeman, wearing a 
saber fully five feet long, seized my horse by the bridle. 
At the black Mongol's instigation (who, I discovered, 
was himself a policeman) he had been waiting to arrest 
us when we came into the city. Since it was impos- 
sible to learn what had caused the trouble, Yvette rode 
to Andersen, Meyer's compound to bring back Mr. 
Olufsen and his interpreter. She found the whole 
courtyard swarming with excited Mongol soldiers. A 
few moments later Olufsen arrived, and we were al- 
lowed to return to his house on parole. Then he vis- 
ited the Foreign Minister, who telephoned the police 
that we were not to be molested further. 

We could never satisfactorily determine what it was 
all about for every one had a different story. The 
most plausible explanation was as follows. Russians 
had been rather persona non grata in Urga since the 
collapse of the empire, and the Mongols were ready 
to annoy them whenever it was possible to do so and 
"get away with it." All foreigners are supposed to be 
Russians by the average native and, when the black 
Mongol discovered us using a strange machine, he 
thought it an excellent opportunity to "show off" be- 






AN ADVENTURE IN THE LAMA CITY 139 

fore the lamas. Therefore, he told them that we were 
casting a spell over the great temple by means of the 
motion picture camera which I was swinging up and 
down and from side to side. This may not be the true 
explanation of the trouble but at least it was the one 
which sounded most logical to us. 

Our lama had been caught in the city, and it was 
with difficulty that we were able to obtain his release. 
The police charged that he tried to escape when they 
ordered him to stop. He related how they had slapped 
his face and pulled his ears before they allowed him to 
leave the jail, and he was a very much frightened young 
man when he appeared at Andersen, Meyer's com- 
pound. However, he was delighted to have escaped so 
easily, as he had had excellent prospects of spending a 
week or two in one of the prison coffins. 

The whole performance had the gravest possibilities, 
and we were exceedingly fortunate in not having been 
seriously injured or killed. By playing upon their su- 
perstitions, the black Mongol had so inflamed the lamas 
that they were ready for anything. I should never have 
allowed them to separate me from my wife and, to pre- 
vent it, probably would have had to use my pistol. Had 
I begun to shoot, death for both of us would have been 
inevitable. 

The day that we arrived in Urga from the plains we 
found the city flooded. The great square in front of 
the horse market was a chocolate-colored lake ; a brown 
torrent was rushing down the main street; and every 
alley was two feet deep in water, or a mass of liquid 



140 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

mud. It was impossible to walk without wading to 
the knees and even our horses floundered and slipped 
about, covering us with mud and water. The river 
valley, too, presented quite a different picture than 
when we had seen it last. Instead of open sweeps of 
grassland dotted with an occasional yurt, now there 
were hundreds of felt dwellings interspersed with tents 
of white or blue. It was like the encampment of a 
great army, or a collection of huge beehives. 

Most of the inhabitants were Mongols from the city 
who had pitched their yurts in the valley for the sum- 
mer. Although the wealthiest natives seem to feel 
that for the reception of guests their "position" de- 
mands a foreign house, they seldom live in it. Duke 
Loobitsan Yangsen had completed his mansion the pre- 
vious winter. It was built in Russian style and fur- 
nished with an assortment of hideous rugs and foreign 
furniture which made one shiver. But in the yard be- 
hind the house his yurt was pitched, and there he lived 
in comfort. 

Loobitsan was a splendid fellow — one of the best 
types of Mongol aristocrats. From the crown of his 
finely molded head to the toes of his pointed boots, he 
was every inch a duke. I saw him in his house one 
day reclining on a hang while he received half a dozen 
minor officials, and his manner of quiet dignity and con- 
scious power recalled accounts of the Mongol princes 
as Marco Polo saw them. Loobitsan liked foreigners 
and one could always find a cordial reception in his 



AN ADVENTURE IN THE LAMA CITY 141 

compound. He spoke excellent Chinese and was un- 
usually well educated for a Mongol. 

Although he was in charge of the customs station 
at Mai-ma-cheng and owned considerable property, 
which he rented to the Chinese for vegetable gardens, 
his chief wealth was in horses. In Mongolia a man's 
worldly goods are always measured in horses, not in 
dollars. When he needs cash he sells a pony or two 
and buys more if he has any surplus silver. His bank 
is the open plain; his herdsmen are the guardians of 
his riches. 

Loobitsan's wife, the duchess, was a nice-looking 
woman who seemed rather bored with life. She re- 
joiced in two gorgeous strings of pearls, which on state 
occasions hung from the silver-encrusted horns of hair 
to the shoulders of her brocade jacket. Ordinarily she 
appeared in a loose red gown and hardly looked regal. 

Loobitsan had never seen Peking and was anxious 
to go. When General Hsu Shu-tseng made his coup 
d'etat in November, 1919, Mr. Larsen and Loobitsan 
came to the capital as representatives of the Hutukhtu, 
and one day, as my wife was stepping into a millinery 
shop on Rue Marco Polo, she met him dressed in all 
his Mongol splendor. But he was so closely chap- 
eroned by Chinese officials that he could not enjoy him- 
self. I saw Larsen not long afterward, and he told me 
that Loobitsan was already pining for the open plains 
of his beloved Mongolia. 

In mid-July, when we returned to Urga, the vege- 
table season was at its height. The Chinese, of course, 



142 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

do all the gardening; and the splendid radishes, beets, 
onions, carrots, cabbages, and beans, which were 
brought every day to market, showed the wonderful 
possibilities for development along these lines. North 
of the Bogdo-ol there is a superabundance of rain and 
vegetables grow so rapidly in the rich soil that they 
are deliciously sweet and tender, besides being of enor- 
mous size. While we were on the plains our food had 
consisted largely of meat and we reveled in the change 
of diet. We wished often for fruit but that is non- 
existent in Mongolia except a few, hard, watery pears, 
which merchants import from China. 

Mr. Larsen was in Kalgan for the summer but Mr. 
Olufsen turned over his house and compound for our 
work. I am afraid we bothered him unmercifully, yet 
his good nature was unfailing and he was never too 
busy to assist us in the innumerable details of packing 
the specimens we had obtained upon the plains and in 
preparing for our trip into the forests north of Urga. 
It is men like him who make possible scientific work 
in remote corners of the world. 



CHAPTER XI 

MONGOLS AT HOME 

Until we left Urga the second time Mongolia, to us, 
had meant only the Gobi Desert and the boundless, 
rolling plains. When we set our faces northward we 
found it was also a land of mountains and rivers, of 
somber forests and gorgeous flowers. 

A new forest always thrills me mightily. Be it of 
stately northern pines, or a jungle tangle in the trop- 
ics, it is so filled with glamour and mystery that I enter 
it with a delightful feeling of expectation. There is 
so much that is concealed from view, it is so pregnant 
with the possibility of surprises, that I am as excited 
as a child on Christmas morning. 

The forests of Mongolia were by no means disap- 
pointing. We entered them just north of Urga where 
the Siberian life zone touches the plains of the central 
Asian region and the beginnings of a new fauna are 
sharply delineated by the limit of the trees. We had 
learned that the Terelche River would offer a fruitful 
collecting ground. It was only forty miles from Urga 
and the first day's trip was a delight. We traveled 
northward up a branch valley enclosed by forested hills 
and carpeted with flowers. Never had we seen such 
flowers! Acre after acre of bluebells, forget-me-nots, 

143 



144 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

daisies, buttercups, and cowslips converted the entire 
valley into a vast "old-fashioned garden," radiantly 
beautiful. Our camp that night was at the base of a 
mountain called the Da Wat which shut us off from 
the Terelche River. 

On the second morning, instead of golden sunshine, 
we awoke to a cloud-hung sky and floods of rain. It 
was one of those days when everything goes wrong; 
when with all your heart you wish to swear but instead 
you must smile and smile and keep on smiling. No one 
wished to break camp in the icy deluge but there were 
three marshes between us and the Terelche River which 
were bad enough in dry weather. A few hours of rain 
would make them impassable, perhaps for weeks. 

My wife and I look back upon that day and the next 
as one of our few, real hardships. After eight hours 
of killing work, wet to the skin and almost frozen, we 
crossed the first dangerous swamp and reached the sum- 
mit of the mountain. Then the cart, with our most val- 
uable possessions, plunged off the road on a sharp de- 
scent and crashed into the forest below. Chen and I 
escaped death by a miracle and the other Chinese taxi- 
dermist, who was safe and sound, promptly had hys- 
terics. It was discouraging, to say the least. We 
camped in the gathering darkness on a forty-five-de- 
gree slope in mud twelve inches deep. Next day we 
gathered up our scattered belongings, repaired the cart, 
and reached the river. 

I had a letter from Duke Loobitsan Yangsen to a 
famous old hunter, Tserin Dorchy by name, who lives 



MONGOLS AT HOME 145 

in the Terelche region. He had been gone for six days 
on a shooting trip when we came into the beautiful val- 
ley where his yurts were pitched, but his wife welcomed 
us with true Mongolian hospitality and a great dish of 
cheese. Our own camp we made just within the for- 
est, a mile away. 

For a week we hunted and trapped in the vicinity, 
awaiting Tserin Dorchy's return. Our arrival created 
a deal of interest among the half dozen families in the 
neighborhood and, after each had paid a formal call, 
they apparently agreed that we were worthy of being 
accepted into their community. We were nomads for 
the time, just as they are for life. We had pitched 
our tents in the forest, as they had erected their yurts 
in the meadow beside the river. When the biting winds 
of winter swept the valley a few months later they 
would move, with all their sheep and goats, to the shel- 
ter of the hills and we would seek new hunting 
grounds. 

Before many days we learned all the valley gossip. 
Moreover, we furnished some ourselves for one of the 
Chinese taxidermists became enamored of a Mongol 
maiden. There were two of them, to be exact, and they 
both "vamped" him persistently. The toilettes with 
which they sought to allure him were marvels of bril- 
liance, and one of them actually scrubbed her little face 
and hands with a cake of my yellow, scented soap. 

Our servant's affections finally centered upon the 
younger girl and I smiled paternally upon the wild- 
wood romance. Every night, with a sheepish grin, 



146 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Chen would ask to borrow a pony. The responsibili- 
ties of chaperones sat lightly on our shoulders, but 
sometimes my wife and I would wander out to the edge 
of the forest and watch him to the bottom of the hill. 
Usually his love was waiting and they would ride off 
together in the moonlight — where, we never asked! 

But we could not blame the boy — those Mongolian 
nights were made for lovers. The marvel of them we 
hold among our dearest memories. Wherever we may 
be, the fragrance of pine trees or the sodden smell of a 
marsh carries us back in thought to the beautiful valley 
and fills our hearts again with the glory of its clear, 
white nights. 

No matter what the day brought forth, we looked 
forward to the evening hunt as best of all. As we 
trotted our ponies homeward through the fresh, damp 
air we could watch the shadows deepen in the somber 
masses of the forest, and on the hilltops see the ragged 
silhouettes of sentinel pines against the rose glow of 
the sky. Ribbons of mist, weaving in and out above the 
stream, clothed the alders in ghostly silver and rested 
in billowy masses upon the marshes. Ere the moon 
had risen, the stars blazed out like tiny lanterns in the 
sky. Over all the valley there was peace unutterable. 

We were soon admitted to a delightful comradeship 
with the Mongols of our valley. We shared their joys 
and sorrows and nursed their minor ills. First to seek 
our aid was the wife of the absent hunter, Tserin 
Dorchy. She rode up one day with a two-year-old 
baby on her arm. The little fellow was badly infected 



MONGOLS AT HOME 147 

with eczema, and for three weeks one of the lamas in 
the tiny temple near their yurt had been mumbling 
prayers and incantations in his behalf, without avail. 
Fortunately, I had a supply of zinc ointment and be- 
fore the month was ended the baby was almost well. 
Then came the lama with his bill "for services ren- 
dered," and Tserin Dorchy contributed one hundred 
dollars to his priestly pocket. A young Mongol with 
a dislocated shoulder was my next patient, and when 
I had made him whole, the lama again claimed the 
credit and collected fifty dollars as the honorarium for 
his prayers. And so it continued throughout the sum- 
mer; I made the cures, and the priest got the fees. 

Although the Mongols all admitted the efficacy of 
my foreign medicines, nevertheless they could not bring 
themselves to dispense with the lama and his prayers. 
Superstition was too strong and fear that the priest 
would send an army of evil spirits flocking to their 
ywrts if they offended him brought the money, albeit 
reluctantly, from their pockets. Although the lama 
never proposed a partnership arrangement, as I thought 
he might have done, he spent much time about our 
camp and often brought us bowls of curded milk and 
cheese. He was a wandering priest and not a perma- 
nent resident of the valley, but he evidently decided 
not to wander any farther until we, too, should leave, 
for he was with us until the very end. 

A short time after we had made our camp near the 
Terelche River a messenger arrived from Urga with 
a huge package of mail. In it was a copy of Harper's 



148 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Magazine containing an account of a flying visit which 
I had made to Urga in September, 191 8. 1 There were 
half a dozen Mongols near our tent, among whom was 
Madame Tserin Dorchy. I explained the pictures to 
the hunter's wife in my best Chinese while Yvette 
"stood by" with her camera and watched results. Al- 
though the woman had visited Urga several times she 
had never seen a photograph or a magazine and for ten 
minutes there was no reaction. Then she recognized 
a Mongol headdress similar to her own. With a gasp 
of astonishment she pointed it out to the others and 
burst into a perfect torrent of guttural expletives. A 
picture of the great temple at Urga, where she once 
had gone to worship, brought forth another volume of 
Mongolian adjectives and her friends literally fought 
for places in the front row. 

News travels quickly in Mongolia and during the 
next week men and women rode in from ywrts forty or 
fifty miles away to see that magazine. I will venture 
to say that no American publication ever received more 
appreciation or had a more picturesque audience than 
did that copy of Harper's. 

The absent Tserin Dorchy returned one day when I 
was riding down the valley with his wife. We saw two 
strange figures on horseback emerging from the for- 
est, each with a Russian rifle on his back. Their sad- 
dles were strung about with half -dried skins — four roe- 
buck, a musk deer, a moose, and a pair of elk antlers 
in the "velvet." 

1 Harper's Magazine, June, 1919, pp. 1-16. 



! 




MONGOLS AT HOME 149 

With a joyful shout Madame Tserin Dorchy rode 
toward her husband. He was an oldish man, of fifty- 
five years perhaps, with a face as dried and weather- 
beaten as the leather beneath his saddle. He may have 
been glad to see her but his only sign of greeting was 
a <f sai 3 and a nod to include us both. Her pleasure 
was undisguised, however, and as we rode down the 
valley she chattered volubly between the business of 
driving in half a dozen horses and a herd of sheep. 
The monosyllabic replies of the hunter were delivered 
in a voice which seemed to come from a long way off 
or from out of the earth beneath his pony's feet. I 
was interested to see what greeting there would be 
upon his arrival at the yurt. His two daughters and 
his infant son were waiting at the door but he had not 
even a word for them and only a pat upon the head for 
the baby. 

All Mongols are independent but Tserin Dorchy 
was an extreme in every way. He ruled the half dozen 
families in the valley like an autocrat. What he com- 
manded was done without a question. I was anxious 
to get away and announced that we would start the 
day after his arrival. "No," said he, "we will go two 
days from now." Argument was of no avail. So far 
as he was concerned, the matter was closed. When it 
came to arranging wages he stated his terms, which 
were exorbitant. I could accept them or not as I 
pleased; he would not reduce his demands by a single 
copper. 

As a matter of fact, offers of money make little im- 



150 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

pression upon the ordinary Mongols. They produce 
well-nigh everything they need for they dress in sheep- 
skins during the winter and eat little else than mutton. 
When they want cloth, tea, or ammunition, they simply 
sell a sheep or a pony or barter with the Chinese mer- 
chants. 

We found that the personal equation enters very 
largely into any dealings with a Mongol. If he likes 
you, remuneration is an incident. If he is not inter- 
ested, money does not tempt him. His independence 
is a product of the wild, free life upon the plains. He 
relies entirely upon himself for he has learned that in 
the struggle for existence, it is he himself that counts. 
Of the Chinaman, the opposite is true. His life is one 
of the community and he depends upon his family and 
his village. He is gregarious above all else and he 
hates to live alone. In this dependence upon his fellow 
men he knows that money counts — and there is very 
little that a Chinaman will not do for money. 

On one of his trips across Mongolia, Mr. Coltman's 
car became badly mired within a stone's throw of a 
Mongol yurt. Two or three oxen were grazing in 
front of the house and Coltman asked the native to 
pull his car out of the mud. The Mongol, who was 
comfortably smoking his pipe in the sun, was not at 
all interested in the matter, but finally remarked cas- 
ually that he would do it for eight dollars. There was 
no argument. Eight dollars was what he said, and 
eight dollars it would have to be or he would not move. 
The entire operation of dragging the car to firm 



MONGOLS AT HOME 151 

ground consumed just four minutes. But this instance 
was an exception for usually a Mongol is the very- 
essence of good nature and is ready to assist whenever 
a traveler is in difficulty. 

Tserin Dorchy's independence kept us in a constant 
state of irritation for it was manifested in a dozen 
different ways. We would gladly have dispensed with 
his services but his word was law in the community 
and, if he had issued a "bull" against us, we could not 
have obtained another man. For all his age, he was 
an excellent hunter and we came to be good friends. 

The old man's independence once led him into seri- 
ous trouble. He had often looked at the Bogdo-ol 
with longing eyes and had made short excursions, with- 
out his gun, into its sacred forests. On one of these 
trips he saw a magnificent elk with antlers such as he 
had never dreamed were carried by any living animal. 
He could not forget that deer. Its memory was a 
thorn that pricked him wherever else he hunted. Fi- 
nally he determined to have it, even if Mongolian law 
and the Lama Church had proclaimed it sacred. 

Toward the end of July, when he deemed the antlers 
just ripe for plucking, he slipped into the forest dur- 
ing the night and climbed the mountain. After two 
days he killed the elk. But the lamas who patrol 
"God's Mountain" had heard the shot and drove him 
into a great rock-strewn gorge where they lost his 
trail. Believing that he was still within hearing dis- 
tance, they shouted to one another that it was useless 
to hunt longer and that they had best return. Then 



152 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

they concealed themselves and awaited results. An 
hour later Tserin Dorchy crawled out from under a 
bowlder directly into their hands. 

He had been well-nigh killed before the lamas 
brought him down to Urga and was still unconscious 
when they dumped him unceremoniously into one of 
the prison coffins. He was sentenced to remain a year; 
but the old man would not have lived a month if Duke 
Loobitsan Yangsen, with whom he had often hunted, 
had not obtained his release. His independent spirit 
is by no means chastened, however, and I feel sure that 
he will shoot another deer on the Bogdo-ol before he 
dies! 

Three days after his return home, my wife and I 
left with him and three other Mongols on our first real 
hunt. Our equipment consisted only of sleeping bags 
and such food as could be carried on our horses ; it was 
a time when living "close to nature'' was really neces- 
sary. Eight miles away we stopped at the entrance 
to a tiny valley. By arranging a bit of canvas over the 
low branches of a larch tree we prepared a shelter for 
ourselves and another for the hunters. 

In fifteen minutes camp was ready and a fire blaz- 
ing. When a huge iron basin of water had begun to 
warm one of the Mongols threw in a handful of brick 
tea, which resembled nothing so much as powdered to- 
bacco. After the black fluid had boiled vigorously for 
ten minutes each one filled his wooden eating bowl, 
put in a great chunk of rancid butter, and then a quan- 
tity of finely-ground meal. This is what the Tibetans 



MONGOLS AT HOME 153 

call tsamba, and the buttered tea was prepared exactly 
as we had seen the Tibetans make it. The tsamba, 
however, was only to enable them to "carry on" until 
we killed some game; for meat is the Mongols' "staff 
of life," and they care little for anything except ani- 
mal food. 

The evening hunt yielded no results. Two of the 
Mongols had missed a bear, I had seen a roebuck, and 
the old man had lost a wounded musk deer on the moun- 
tain ridge above the camp. But the game was there 
and we knew where to find it on the morrow. In the 
gray light of early morning Tserin Dorchy and I rode 
up the valley through the dew-soaked grass. Once the 
old man stopped to examine the rootings of a ga-hai 
(wild boar) , then he continued steadily along the stream 
bed. In the half -gloom of the forest the bushes and 
trees seemed flat and colorless but suddenly the sun 
burned through an horizon cloud, flooding the woods 
with golden light. The whole forest seemed instantly to 
awaken. It was as though we had come into a dimly 
lighted room and touched an electric switch. The trees 
and bushes assumed a dozen subtle shades of green, 
and the flowers blazed like jewels in the gorgeous wood- 
land carpet. 

I should have liked to spend the morning in the for- 
est but we knew the deer were feeding in the open. On 
foot we climbed upward through knee-high grass to the 
summit of a hill. There seemed nothing living in the 
meadow but as we walked along the ridge a pair of 
grouse shot into the air followed by half a dozen chicks 



154 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

which buzzed away like brown bullets to the shelter of 
the trees. We crossed a flat depression and rested for 
a moment on a rounded hilltop. Below us a new valley 
sloped downward, bathed in sunshine. Tserin Dorchy 
wandered slowly to the right while I studied the edge 
of a marsh with my glasses. 

Suddenly I heard the muffled beat of hoofs. Jerking 
the glasses from my eyes I saw a huge roebuck, crowned 
with a splendid pair of antlers, bound into view not 
thirty feet away. For the fraction of a second he 
stopped, with his head thrown back, then dashed along 
the hillside. That instant of hesitation gave me just 
time to seize my rifle, catch a glimpse of the yellow-red 
body through the rear sight, and fire as he disappeared. 
Leaping to my feet, I saw four slender legs waving in 
the air. The bullet had struck him in the shoulder and 
he was down for good. 

My heart pounded w T ith exultation as I lifted his mag- 
nificent head. He was the finest buck I had ever seen 
and I gloated over his body as a miser handles his gold. 
And gold, shining in the sunlight, was never more beau- 
tiful than his spotless summer coat. 

Right where he lay upon the hillside, amid a veritable 
garden of bluebells, daisies, and yellow roses, was the 
setting for the group we wished to prepare in the Ameri- 
can Museum of Natural History. He would be its cen- 
tral figure for his peer could not be found in all Mon- 
golia. 

As I stood there in the brilliant sunlight, mentally 
planning the group, I thought how fortunate I was to 



MONGOLS AT HOME 155 

have been born a naturalist. A sportsman shoots a deer 
and takes its head; later, it hangs above his fireplace 
or in the trophy room. If he be one of imagination, in 
years to come it will bring back to him the feel of the 
morning air, the fragrance of the pine trees, and the 
wild thrill of exultation as the buck went down. But 
it is a memory picture only and limited to himself. The 
mounted head can never bring to others the smallest 
part of the joy he felt and the scene he saw. 

The naturalist shares his pleasure and, after all, it is 
largely that which counts. When the group is con- 
structed in the Museum under his direction he can see 
reproduced with fidelity and in minutest detail this hid- 
den corner of the world. He can share with thousands 
of city dwellers the joy of his hunt and teach them some- 
thing of the animals he loves and the lands they call 
their own. 

To his scientific training he owes another source of 
pleasure. Every animal is a step in the solution of some 
one of nature's problems. Perhaps it is a new discovery, 
a species unknown to science. Asia is full of such sur- 
prises — I have already found many. Be the specimen 
large or small, if it has fallen to your trap or rifle, there 
is the thrill of knowing that you have traced one more 
small line on the white portion of nature's map. 

While I was gazing .at the fallen buck Tserin Dorchy 
stood like a statue on the hilltop, scanning the forest and 
valley with the hope that my shot had disturbed another 
animal. In a few moments he came down to me. The 
old man had lost some of his accustomed calm and, with 



156 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

thumb upraised, murmured, "Scd, sai" Then he gave, 
in vivid pantomime, a recital of how he suddenly sur- 
prised the buck feeding just below the hill crest and 
how he had seen me jerk the glasses from my eyes and 
shoot. 

Sitting down beside the deer we went through the 
ceremony of a smoke. Then Tserin Dorchy eviscerated 
the animal, being careful to preserve the heart, liver, 
stomach, and intestines. Like all other Orientals with 
whom I have hunted, the Mongols boiled and ate the 
viscera as soon as we reached camp and seemed to con- 
sider them an especial delicacy. 

Some weeks later we killed two elk and Tserin 
Dorchy inflated and dried the intestines. These were to 
be used as containers for butter and mutton fat. After 
tanning the stomach he manufactured from it a bag to 
contain milk or other liquids. His wife showed me some 
really beautiful leather which she had made from roe- 
buck skins. Tanning hides and making felt were the 
only strictly Mongolian industries which we observed 
in the region visited by our expedition. The Mongols 
do a certain amount of logging and charcoal burning 
and in the autumn they cut hay; but with these excep- 
tions we never saw them do any work which could not 
be done from horseback. 

Our first hunting trip lasted ten days and in the fol- 
lowing months there were many others. We became 
typical nomads, spending a day or two in some secluded 
valley only to move again to other hunting grounds. 
For the time we were Mongols in all essentials. The 



MONGOLS AT HOME 157 

primitive instincts, which lie just below the surface in 
us all, responded to the subtle lure of nature and with- 
out an effort we slipped into the care-free life of these 
children of the woods and plains. 

We slept at night under starlit skies in the clean, fresh 
forest; the first gray light of dawn found us stealing 
through the dew-soaked grass on the trail of elk, moose, 
boar or deer ; and when the sun was high, like animals, 
we spent the hours in sleep until the lengthening shad- 
ows sent us out again for the evening hunt. In those 
days New York seemed to be on another planet and 
very, very far away. Happiness and a great peace was 
ours, such as those who dwell in cities can never know. 

In the midst of our second hunt the Mongols sud- 
denly announced that they must return to the Terelche 
Valley. We did not want to go, but T serin Dorchy 
was obdurate. With the limited Chinese at our com- 
mand we could not learn the reason, and at the base 
camp Lii, "the interpreter," was wholly incoherent. 
"To-morrow, plenty Mongol come," he said. "Riding 
pony, all same Peking. Two men catch hold, both fall 
down." My wife was perfectly sure that he had lost his 
mind, but by a flash of intuition I got his meaning. If 
was to be a field meet. "Riding pony, all same Peking" 
meant races, and "two men catch hold, both fall down" 
could be nothing else than wrestling. I was very proud 
of myself, and Lii was immensely relieved. 

Athletic contests are an integral part of the life of 
every Mongol community, as I knew, and the members 
of our valley family were to hold their annual games. 



158 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

At Urga, in June, the great meet which the Living God 
blesses with his presence is an amazing spectacle, remi- 
niscent of the pageants of the ancient emperors. All 
the elite of Mongolia gather on the banks of the Tola 
River, dressed in their most splendid robes, and the 
archery, wrestling, and horse racing are famous 
throughout the East. 

This love of sport is one of the most attractive char- 
acteristics of the Mongols. It is a common ground on 
which a foreigner immediately has a point of contact. 
The Chinese, on the contrary, despise all forms of physi- 
cal exercise. They consider it "bad form," and they do 
not understand any sport which calls for violent exer- 
tion. They prefer to take a quiet walk, carrying their 
pet bird in a cage for an airing ; to play a game of cards ; 
or, if they must travel, to loll back in a sedan chair, with 
the curtains drawn and every breath of air excluded. 

The Terelche Valley meet was held on a flat strip of 
ground just below our camp. As my wife and I rode 
out of the forest, a dozen Mongols swept by, gorgeous in 
flaming red and streaming peacock plumes. They 
waved a challenge to us, and we joined them in a wild 
race to a flag in the center of the field. On the side of 
the hill sat a row of lamas in dazzling yellow gowns; 
opposite them were the judges, among whom I recog- 
nized Tserin Dorchy, though he was so bedecked, be- 
hatted and beribboned that I could hardly realize that 
it was the same old fellow with whom we had lived in 
camp. (I presume if he saw me in the clothes of civi- 
lization he would be equally surprised.) 



MONGOLS AT HOME 159 

In front of the judges, who represented the most re- 
spected laity of the community, were bowls of cheese 
cut into tiny cubes. The spectators consisted of two 
groups of women, who sat some distance apart in com- 
pact masses, the "horns" of their headdresses almost 
interlocked. Their costumes were marvels of brilliance. 
They looked like a flock of gorgeous butterflies, which 
had alighted for a moment on the grass. 

The first race consisted of about a dozen ponies, 
ridden by fourteen-year-old boys and girls. They swept 
up the valley from the starting point in full run, hair 
streaming, and uttering wailing yells. The winner was 
led by two old Mongols to the row of lamas, before 
whom he prostrated himself twice, and received a hand- 
ful of cheese. This he scattered broadcast, as he was 
conducted ceremoniously to the judges, from whom he 
returned with palms brimming with bits of cheese. 

Finally, all the contestants in the races, and half a 
dozen of the Mongols on horseback, lined up in front 
of the priests, each one singing a barbaric chant. Then 
they circled about the lamas, beating their horses until 
they were in a full run. After the race came wrestling 
matches. The contestants sparred for holds and when 
finally clinched, each with a grip on the other's waist- 
band, endeavored to obtain a fall by suddenly heaving. 
When the last wrestling match was finished, a tall Mon- 
gol raised the yellow banner, and followed by every man 
and boy on horseback, circled about the seated lamas. 
Faster and faster they rode, yelling like demons, and 
then strung off across the valley to the nearest yurt . 



160 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Although the sports in themselves were not remark- 
able, the scene was picturesque in the extreme. Oppo- 
site to the grassy hill the forest-clad mountains rose, 
tier upon tier, in dark green masses. The brilliant yel- 
low lamas faced by the Mongols in their blazing robes 
and pointed yellow hats, the women, flashing with "jew- 
els" and silver, the half -wild chant, and the rush of 
horses, gave a barbaric touch which thrilled and fasci- 
nated us. We could picture this same scene seven hun- 
dred years ago, for it is an ancient custom which has 
come down from the days of Kublai Khan. It was as 
though the veil of centuries had been lifted for a mo- 
ment to allow us to carry away, in motion pictures, this 
drama of Mongolian life. 



CHAPTER XII 

NOMADS OF THE FOREST 

Three days after the field meet we left with Tserin 
Dorchy and two other Mongols for a wapiti hunt. We 
rode along the Terelche River for three miles, some- 
times splashing through the soggy edges of a marsh, and 
again halfway up a hillside where the ground was firm 
and hard ; then, turning west on a mountain slope, we 
came to a low plateau which rolled away in undulating 
sweeps of bush-land between the edges of the dark pine 
woods. It was a truly boreal landscape ; we were on the 
edge of the forest, which stretches in a vast, rolling sea 
of green far beyond the Siberian frontier. 

From the summit of the table-land we descended be- 
tween dark walls of pine trees to a beautiful valley filled 
with parklike openings. Just at dark Tserin Dorchy 
turned abruptly into the stream and crossed to a pretty 
grove of spruces on a little island formed by two 
branches of the river. It was as secluded as a cavern, 
and made an ideal place in which to camp. A hundred 
feet away the tent was invisible and, save for the tiny 
wreaths of smoke which curled above the tree-tops, 
there was no sign of our presence there. 

After dinner Tserin Dorchy shouldered a pack of 
skins and went to a "salt lick" in a meadow west of camp 

161 



162 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

to spend the night. He returned in the first gray light 
of dawn, just as I was making coffee, and reported that 
he had heard wapiti barking, but that no animals had 
visited the lick. He directed me to go along the hill- 
sides north of camp, while the Mongol hunters struck 
westward across the mountains. 

I had not been gone an hour, and had just worked 
across the lower end of a deep ravine, when I heard a 
wapiti bark above and behind me. It was a hoarse roar, 
exactly like a roebuck, except that it was deeper toned 
and louder. I was thrilled as though by an electric cur- 
rent. It seemed very far away, much farther than it 
really was, and as I crept to the summit of a ridge a 
splendid bull wapiti broke through the underbrush. He 
had been feeding in the bottom of the ravine and saw 
my head instantly as it appeared above the sky line. 
There was no chance to shoot because of the heavy 
cover; and even when he paused for a moment on the 
opposite hillside a screen of tree branches was in my 
way. 

Absolutely disgusted with myself, I followed the ani- 
mal's trail until it was lost in the heavy forest. The 
wapiti was gone for good, but on the way back to camp 
I picked up a roebuck which acted as some balm to my 
injured feelings. 

I had climbed to the crest of the mountains enclosing 
the valley in which we were camped, and was working 
slowly down the rim of a deep ravine. In my soft 
leather moccasins I could walk over the springy moss 
without a sound, and suddenly saw a yellow-red form 



NOMADS OF THE FOREST 163 

moving about in a luxurious growth of grass and tinted 
leaves. My heart missed a beat, for I thought it was a 
wapiti. 

Instantly I dropped behind a bush and, as the animal 
moved into the open, I saw it was an enormous roebuck 
bearing a splendid pair of antlers. I watched him for 
a moment, then aimed low behind the foreleg and fired. 
The deer bounded into the air and rolled to the bottom 
of the ravine, kicking feebly; my bullet had burst the 
heart. It was one of the few times I have ever seen an 
animal instantly killed with a heart shot for usually 
they run a few yards, and then suddenly collapse. 

The buck was almost as large as the first one I had 
killed with Tserin Dorchy but it had a twisted right 
antler. Evidently it had been injured during the ani- 
mal's youth and had continued to grow at right angles 
to the head, instead of straight up in the normal way. 

When I reached camp I found Yvette busily picking 
currants in the bushes beside the stream. Her face and 
hands were covered with red stains and she looked like 
a very naughty little boy who had run away from school 
for a day in the woods. Although blueberries grew on 
every hillside, we never found strawberries, such as the 
Russians in Urga gather on the Bogdo-ol, and only one 
patch of raspberries on a burned-off mountain slope. 
But the currants were delicious when smothered in 
sugar. 

Yvette and I rode out to the spot where I had killed 
the roebuck to bring it in on Kublai Khan and before 
we returned the Mongol hunters had reached camp; 



164 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

neither of them had seen game of any kind. During 
the day we discovered some huge trout in the stream 
almost at our door. We had no hooks or lines, but the 
Mongols devised a way to catch the fish which brought 
us food, although it would have made a sportsman 
shiver. They built a dam of stones across the stream 
and one man waded slowly along, beating the water 
with a branch to drive the trout out of the pools into the 
ripples ; then we dashed into the water and tried to catch 
them with our hands. At least a dozen got away but we 
secured three by cornering them among the rocks. 

They were huge trout, nearly three feet long. Un- 
fortunately I was not able to preserve any of them and 
I do not know what species they represented. The 
Mongols and Chinese often catch the same fish in the 
Tola River by means of nets and we sometimes bought 
them in Urga. One, which we put on the scales, weighed 
nine pounds. Although Ted MacCallie tried to catch 
them with a fly at Urga he never had any success but 
they probably would take live bait. 

August 20 was our second day in camp. At dawn 
I was awakened by the patter of rain on the tent and 
soon it became a steady downpour. There was no use 
in hunting and I went back to sleep. At seven o'clock 
Chen, who was fussing about the fire, rushed over to say 
that he could see two wapiti on the opposite mountain. 
Yvette and I scrambled out of our sleeping bags just 
in time to see a doe and a fawn silhouetted against the 
sky rim as they disappeared over the crest. Half an 
hour later they returned, and I tried a stalk but I lost 



NOMADS OF THE FOREST 165 

them in the fog and rain. Tserin Dorchy believed that 
the animals had gone into a patch of forest on the other 
side of the mountain. We tried to drive them out but 
the only thing that appeared was a four-year-old roe- 
buck which the Mongol killed with a single shot. 

We had ridden up the mountain by zigzagging across 
the slope, but when we started back I was astounded to 
see Tserin Dorchy keep to his saddle. The wet grass 
was so slippery that I could not even stand erect and 
half the time was sliding on my back, while Kublai Khan 
picked his way carefully down the steep descent. The 
Mongol never left his horse till we reached camp. 
Sometimes he even urged the pony to a trot and, more- 
over, had the roebuck strapped behind his saddle. I 
would not have ridden down that mountain side for all 
the deer in Mongolia! 

It had begun to rain in earnest by eleven o'clock, and 
we spent a quiet afternoon. There is a charm about a 
rainy day when one can read comfortably and let it 
pour. The steady patter on the tent gives one the de- 
lightful sensation of immediately escaping extreme dis- 
comfort. There is no pleasure in being warm unless 
the weather is cold; and one never realizes how agree- 
able it is to be dry unless the day is wet. This day was 
very wet indeed. We had a month's accumulation of 
unopened magazines which a Mongol had brought to 
our base camp just before we left, so there was no chance 
of being bored. The fire had been built half under a 
huge, back-log which kept a cheery glow of coals 
throughout all the downpour, and Chen made us 



166 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

"chowdzes" — delicious little balls of meat mixed with 
onions and seasoned with Chinese sauce. The Mongols 
slept and ate and slept some more. We ate and slept 
and read. Therefore, we were very happy. 

The weather during that summer in the forest was a 
source of constant surprise to us. We had never seen 
such rapid changes from brilliant sunshine to sheets of 
rain. For an hour or two the sky might "stretch above 
us like a vast blue curtain flecked with tiny masses of 
snow-white clouds. Suddenly, a leaden blanket would 
spread itself over every inch of celestial space, while a 
rush of rain and wind changed the forest to a black chaos 
of writhing branches and dripping leaves. In fifteen 
minutes the storm would sweep across the mountain 
tops, and the sun would again flood our peaceful valley 
with the golden light of early autumn. 

For autumn had already reached us even though the 
season was only mid-August. It was like October in 
New York, and we had nightly frosts which withered the 
countless flowers and turned the leaves to red and gold. 
In the morning, when I crossed the meadows to the 
forest, the grass was white with frost and crackled be- 
neath my feet like delicate threads of spun glass. My 
moccasins were powdered with gleaming crystals of 
frozen dew, but at the first touch of sun every twig and 
leaf and blade of grass began to drip, as though from a 
heavy rain. My feet and legs waist-high were soaked 
in half an hour, and at the end of the morning hunt I 
was as wet as though I had waded a dozen rivers. 

One cannot move on foot in northern Mongolia with- 



NOMADS OF THE FOREST 167 

out the certainty of a thorough wetting. When the sun 
has dried the dew, there are swamps and streamlets in 
every valley and even far up the mountain slopes. It 
is the heavy rainfall, the rich soil, and the brilliant 
sunshine that make northern Mongolia a paradise of 
luxurious grass and flowers, even though the real sum- 
mer lasts only from May till August. Then, the val- 
leys are like an exquisite garden and the woods are 
ablaze with color. Bluebells, their stalks bending under 
the weight of blossoms, clothe every hillside in a glorious 
azure dress bespangled with yellow roses, daisies, and 
forget-me-nots. But I think I like the wild poppies 
best of all, for their delicate, fragile beauty is wonder- 
fully appealing. I learned to love them first in Alaska, 
where their pale, yellow faces look up happily from the 
storm-swept hills of the Pribilof Islands in the Bering 
Sea. 

Besides its flowers, this northern country is one of 
exceeding beauty. The dark green forests of spruce, 
larch and pine, broken now and then by a grove of 
poplars or silver birches, the secluded valleys and the 
rounded hills are strangely restful and give one a sense 
of infinite peace. It is a place to go for tired nerves. 
Ragged peaks, towering mountains, and yawning 
chasms, splendid as they are, may be subtly disturbing, 
engendering a feeling of restlessness and vague depres- 
sion. There is none of this in the forests of Mongolia. 
We felt as though we might be happy there all our lives 
— the mad rush of our other world seemed very far 
away and not much worth while. 



168 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

As yet this land has been but lightly touched by the 
devastating hand of man. A log road cuts the forest 
here and there and sometimes we saw a train of ox-carts 
winding through the trees ; but the primitive beauty of 
the mountains remains unmarred, save where a hillside 
has been swept by fire. In all our wanderings through 
the forests we saw no evidences of occupation by the 
Mongols except the wood roads and a few scattered 
charcoal pits. These were old and moss-grown, and 
save for ourselves the valleys were deserted. 

One morning while I was hunting north of camp, I 
heard a wapiti roar on the summit of a mountain. I 
found its tracks in the soft earth of a game trail which 
wound through forest so dense that I could hardly see 
a dozen yards. As I stole along the path I heard a sud- 
den sneeze exactly like that of a human being and saw 
a small, dark animal dash off the trail. I stopped in- 
stantly and slowly sank to the ground, kneeling mo- 
tionless, with my rifle ready. For five minutes I 
remained there — the silence of the forest broken only by 
the clucking of a hazel grouse above my head. Then 
came that sneeze again, sounding even more human 
than before. I heard a nervous patter of tiny hoofs, 
and the animal sneezed from the bushes at my right. I 
kept as motionless as a statue, and the sneezes followed 
each other in rapid succession, accompanied by im- 
patient stampings and gentle rustlings in the brush. 
Then I saw a tiny head emerge from behind a leafy 
screen and a pair of brilliant eyes gazing at me steadily. 



NOMADS OF THE FOREST 169 

Very, very slowly I raised the rifle until the stock 
nestled against my cheek; then I fired quickly. 

Running to the spot where the head had been I found 
a beautiful brown-gray animal lying behind a bush. It 
was no larger than a half-grown fawn, but on either side 
of its mouth two daggerlike tusks projected, slender, 
sharp and ivory white. It was a musk deer — the first 
living, wild one I had ever seen. Even before I touched 
the body I inhaled a heavy, not unpleasant, odor of 
musk and discovered the gland upon the abdomen. It 
was three inches long and two inches wide, but all the 
hair on the rump and belly was strongly impregnated 
with the odor. 

These little deer are eagerly sought by the natives 
throughout the Orient, as musk is valuable for perfume. 
In Urga the Mongols could sell a "pod" for five dollars 
(silver) and in other parts of China it is worth con- 
siderably more. When we were in Yun-nan we fre- 
quently heard of a musk buyer whom the Paris 
perfumer, Pinaud, maintained in the remote mountain 
village of Atunzi, on the Tibetan frontier. 

Because of their commercial value the little animals 
are relentlessly persecuted in every country which they 
inhabit and in some places they have been completely 
exterminated. Those in Mongolia are particularly dif- 
ficult to kill, since they live only on the mountain sum- 
mits in the thickest forests. Indeed, were it not for their 
insatiable curiosity it would be almost impossible ever 
to shoot them. 

They might be snared, of course, but I never saw any 



170 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

traps or devices for catching animals which the Mon- 
gols used ; they seem to depend entirely upon their guns. 
This is quite unlike the Chinese, Koreans, Manchus, 
Malays, and other Orientals with whom I have hunted, 
for they all have developed ingenious snares, pitfalls 
and traps. 

The musk sac is present only in the male deer and is, 
of course, for the purpose of attracting the does. Un- 
fortunately, it is not possible to distinguish the sexes 
except upon close examination, for both are hornless, 
and as a result the natives sometimes kill females which 
they would prefer to leave unmolested. 

The musk deer use their tusks for fighting and also 
to dig up the food upon which they live. I frequently 
found new pine cones which they had torn apart to get 
at the soft centers. During the winter they develop an 
exceedingly long, thick coat of hair which, however, is 
so brittle that it breaks almost like dry pine needles; 
consequently, the skins have but little commercial value. 

Late one rainy afternoon Tserin Dorchy and I rode 
into a beautiful valley not far from where we were 
camped. When well in the upper end, we left our horses 
and proceeded on foot toward the summit of a ridge on 
which he had killed a bear a month earlier. 

Motioning me to walk to the crest of the ridge from 
the other side, the old man vanished like a ghost among 
the trees. When I was nearly at the top I reached the 
edge of a small patch of burned forest. In the half 
darkness the charred stumps and skeleton trees were as 
black as ebony. As I was about to move into the open 



NOMADS OF THE FOREST 171 

I saw an object which at first seemed to be a curiously 
shaped stump. I looked at it casually, then something 
about it arrested my attention. Suddenly a tail switched 
nervously and I realized that the "stump" was an enor- 
mous wild boar standing head-on, watching me. 

I fired instantly, but even as I pressed the trigger 
the animal moved and I knew that the bullet would 
never reach its mark. But my brain could not telegraph 
to my finger quickly enough to stop its action and the 
boar dashed away unharmed. It was the largest pig 
I have ever seen. As he stood on the summit of the 
ridge he looked almost as big as a Mongol pony. It was 
too dark to follow the animal so I returned to camp, a 
very dejected man. 

I have never been able to forget that boar and I sup- 
pose I never shall. Later, I killed others but they can 
never destroy the memory of that enormous animal as 
he stood there looking down at me. Had I realized that 
it was a pig only the fraction of a second sooner it would 
have been a different story. But that is the fortune of 
shooting. In no other sport is the line between success 
and failure so closely drawn ; of course, it is that which 
makes it so fascinating. At the end of a long day's hunt 
one chance may be given; then all depends on a clear 
eye, a steady hand and, above all, judgment. In your 
action in that single golden second rests the success or 
failure of, perhaps, a season's trip. You may have trav- 
eled thousands of miles, spent hundreds of dollars, and 
had just one shot at the "head of heads." 

Some men tell me that they never get excited when 



172 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

they hunt. Thank God, I do. There would be no fun 
at all for me if I di&rit get excited. But, fortunately, 
it all comes after the crucial moment. When the stock 
of the rifle settles against my cheek and I look across 
the sights, I am as cold as steel. I can shoot, and keep 
on shooting, with every brain cell concentrated on the 
work in hand but when it is done, for better or worse, 
I get the reaction which makes it all worth while. 

One morning, a week after we had been in camp, 
Tserin Dorchy and I discovered a cow and a calf wapiti 
feeding in an open forest. It was a delight to see how 
the old Mongol stalked the deer, slipping from tree to 
bush, sometimes on his knees or flat on his face in the 
soft moss carpet. When we were two hundred yards 
away we drew up behind a stump. I took the cow, 
while Tserin Dorchy covered the calf and at the sound 
of our rifles both animals went down for good. I was 
glad to have them for specimens because we never got 
a shot at a bull in Mongolia, although twice I lost one 
by the merest chance. One of our hunters brought in 
a three-year-old moose a short time after we got the 
wapiti and another had a long chase after a wounded 
bear. 

It was the first week in September when we returned 
to the base camp, our ponies heavily loaded with skins 
and antlers. The Chinese taxidermists under my direc- 
tion had made a splendid collection of small mammals, 
and we had pretty thoroughly exhausted the resources 
of the forests in the Terelche region. Therefore, Yvette 



NOMADS OF THE FOREST 173 

and I decided that it would be well to ride into Urga 
and make arrangements for our return to Peking. 

We did the fifty miles with the greatest ease and 
spent the night with Mamen in Mai-ma-cheng. Next 
day Mr. and Mrs. MacCallie arrived, much to our de- 
light. They were to spend the winter in Urga on busi- 
ness and they brought a supply of much needed am- 
munition, photographic plates, traps and my Mann- 
licher rifle. This equipment had been shipped from 
New York ten months earlier but had only just reached 
Peking and been released from the Customs through 
the heroic efforts of Mr. Guptil. 

We had another two weeks' hunting trip before we 
said good-by to Mongolia but it netted few results. 
All the valleys, which had been deserted when we were 
there before, were filled with Mongols cutting hay for 
the winter feed of their sheep and goats. Of course, 
every camp was guarded by a dog or two, and their con- 
tinual barking had driven the moose, elk, and bear far 
back into the deepest forests where we had no time to 
follow, 

Mr. and Mrs. MacCallie had taken a house in Urga, 
just opposite the Russian Consulate, and they enter- 
tained us while I packed our collections which were 
stored in Andersen, Meyer's godown. It was a full 
week's work, for we had more than a thousand speci- 
mens. The forests of Mongolia had yielded up their 
treasures as we had not dared to hope they would, and 
we left them with almost as much regret as we had left 
the plains. 



174 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

October first the specimens started southward on 
camel back. Kublai Khan, my pony, went with them, 
while we left in the Chinese Government motor cars. 
For two hundred miles we rushed over the same plains 
which, a few months earlier, we had laboriously crossed 
with our caravan. Every spot was pregnant with de- 
lightful memories. At this well we had camped for a 
week and hunted antelope ; in that ragged mass of rocks 
we had killed a wolf; out on the Turin plain we had 
trapped twenty-six marmots in an enormous colony. 

Those had been glorious days and our hearts were sad 
as we raced back to Peking and civilization. But one 
bright spot remained — we need not yet leave our be- 
loved East ! Far to the south, in brigand-infested moun- 
tains on the edge of China, there dwelt a herd of bighorn 
sheep, the argali of the Mongols. Among them was a 
great ram, and we had learned his hiding place. How 
we got him is another story. 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 

I know of no other country about which there is so 
much misinformation as about Mongolia. Because 
the Gobi Desert stretches through its center the popular 
conception appears to be that it is a waste of sand and 
gravel incapable of producing anything. In the pre- 
ceding chapters I have attempted to give a picture of 
the country as we found it and, although our interests 
were purely zoological, I should like to present a few 
notes regarding its commercial possibilities, for I have 
never seen a land which is readily accessible and is yet so 
undeveloped. 

Every year the Ear East is becoming increasingly im- 
portant to the Western World, and especially to the 
people of the United States, for China and its depend- 
encies is the logical place for the investment of Ameri- 
can capital. It is the last great undeveloped field, and 
I am interested in seeing the American business man 
appreciate the great opportunities which await him in 
the Orient. 

It is true that the Gobi Desert is a part of Mongolia, 

but only in its western half is it a desolate waste ; in the 

eastern section it gradually changes into a rolling plain 

covered with "Gobi sage brush" and short bunch grass. 

175 



176 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

When one looks closely one sees that the underlying soil 
is very fine gravel and sand. 

There is little water in this region except surface 
ponds, which are usually dry in summer, and caravans 
depend upon wells. The water in the desert area con- 
tains some alkali but, except in a few instances, the 
impregnation is so slight that it is not especially dis- 
agreeable to the taste. Mr. Larsen told me that there 
is no part of the country between Kalgan and Urga in 
which water cannot be found within ten or twenty feet 
of the surface. I am not prepared to say what this arid 
region could be made to produce. Doubtless, from the 
standpoint of agriculture it would be of little impor- 
tance but sheep and goats could live upon its summer 
vegetation, I am sure. 

It is difficult to say where the Gobi really begins or 
ends when crossing it between Kalgan and Urga, for 
the grasslands both on the south and north merge so im- 
perceptibly into the arid central part that there is no 
real "edge" to the desert; however, it is safe to take 
Panj-kiang as the southern margin, and Turin as the 
northern limit, of the Gobi. Both in the north and south 
the land is rich and fertile — much like the plains of Si- 
beria or the prairies of Kansas and Nebraska. 

Such is the eastern Gobi from June to mid-Septem- 
ber. In the winter, when the dried vegetation exposes 
the surface soil, the whole aspect of the country is 
changed and then it does resemble the popular concep- 
tion of a desert. But what could be more desertlike 



THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 177 

than our north China landscape when frost has stripped 
away the green clothing of its hills and fields ? 

The Chinese have already demonstrated the agricul- 
tural possibilities in the south and every year they reap 
a splendid harvest of oats, wheat, millet, buckwheat and 
potatoes. On the grass-covered meadowlands, both 
north and south of the Gobi, there are vast herds of 
sheep, goats, cattle and horses, but they are only a 
fraction of the numbers which the pasturage could sup- 
port. The cattle and sheep which are exported through 
China can be sent to Kalgan "on the hoof," for since 
grass is plentiful, the animals can graze at night and 
travel during the day. This very materially reduces the 
cost of transportation. 

Besides the great quantities of beef and mutton which 
could be raised and marketed in the Orient, America 
or Europe, thousands of pounds of wool and camel hair 
could be exported. Of course both of these articles are 
produced at the present time, but only in limited quanti- 
ties. In the region where we spent the summer, the 
Mongols sometimes do not shear their sheep or camels 
but gather the wool from the ground when it has 
dropped off in the natural process of shedding. Prob- 
ably half of it is lost, and the remainder is full of dirt 
and grass which detracts greatly from its value. More- 
over, when it is shipped the impurities add at least 
twenty per cent to its weight, and the high cost of trans- 
portation makes this an important factor. Indeed, 
under proper development the pastoral resources of 
Mongolia are almost unlimited. 



178 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

The Turin-Urga region has another commercial asset 
in the enormous colonies of marmots which inhabit the 
country for hundreds of miles to the north, east and 
west. The marmots are prolific breeders — each pair 
annually producing six or eight young — and, although 
their fur is not especially fine, it has always been valu- 
able for coats. Several million marmot pelts are shipped 
every year from Mongolia, the finest coming from 
Uliassutai in the west, and were American steel traps 
introduced the number could be doubled. 

Urga is just being discovered as a fur market. Many 
skins which have been taken well across the Russian 
frontier are sold in Urga, and as the trade increases it 
will command a still wider area. Wolves, foxes, lynx, 
bear, wildcats, sables, martens, squirrels and marmots 
are brought in by thousands; and great quantities of 
sheep, goat, cow and antelope hides are sent annually 
to Kalgan. Several foreign fur houses of considerable 
importance already have their representatives in Urga 
and more are coming every year. The possibilities for 
development in this direction are almost boundless, and 
I believe that within a very few years Urga will become 
one of the greatest fur markets of the Orient. 

As in the south the Chinese farmer cultivates the 
grasslands of the Mongols, so in the north the Chinese 
merchant has assumed the trade. Many firms in Peking 
and Tientsin have branches in Urga and make huge 
profits in the sale of food, cloth and other essentials to 
the Mongols and foreigners and in the export of furs, 
skins and wool. It is well-nigh impossible to touch 



THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 179 

business in Mongolia at any point without coming in 
contact with the Chinese. 

All work not connected with animals is assumed by 
Chinese, for the Mongols are almost useless for any- 
thing which cannot be done from the back of a horse. 
Thus the Chinese have a practical monopoly and they 
exercise all their prerogatives in the enormous prices 
which they charge for the slightest service. Mongols 
and foreigners suffer together in this respect, but there 
is no alternative — the Chinaman can charge what he 
pleases, for he knows full well that no one else will do 
the work. 

Although there is considerable mineral wealth in 
northern Mongolia, up to the present time very little 
prospecting has been done. For several years a Rus- 
sian company has carried on successful operations for 
gold at the Yero mines, between Urga and Kiakhta on 
the Siberian frontier, but they have had to import prac- 
tically all their labor from China. We often passed 
Chinese in the Gobi Desert walking across Mongolia 
pushing a wheelbarrow which contained all their earthly 
belongings. They were on their way to the Yero mines 
for the summer's work ; in the fall they would return on 
foot the way they had come. Now that Mongolia is 
once more a part of the Chinese Republic, the labor 
problem probably will be improved for there will cer- 
tainly be an influx of Chinese who are anxious to work. 

Transportation is the greatest of all commercial fac- 
tors in the Orient and upon it largely depends the de- 
velopment of any country. In Mongolia the problem 



180 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

can be easily solved. At the present time it rests upon 
camel caravans, ox and pony carts and upon automo- 
biles for passengers. Camel traffic begins in September 
and is virtually ended by the first of June. Then their 
places on the trail are taken by ox- and pony carts. 
Camels make the journey from Kalgan to Urga in from 
thirty to fifty days, but the carts require twice as long. 
They travel slowly, at best, and the animals must be 
given time to graze and rest. Of course, they cannot 
cross the desert when the grass is dry, so that transpor- 
tation is divided by the season — camels in winter and 
carts in summer, Each camel carries from four hundred 
and fifty to five hundred pounds, and the charges for 
the journey from Kalgan to Urga vary with conditions 
at from five to fifteen cents (silver) per cattie (one and 
one-third pounds). Thus, by the time goods have 
reached Urga, their value has increased tremendously. 

I can see no reason why motor trucks could not make 
the trip and am intending to use them on my next expe- 
dition. Between Panj-kiang and Turin, the first and 
third telegraph stations, there is some bad going in 
spots, but a well made truck with a broad wheel base 
and a powerful engine certainly could negotiate the 
sand areas without difficulty. After Turin, where the 
Gobi may be said to end, the road is like a boulevard. 

The motor service for passengers which the Chinese 
Government maintains between Kalgan and Urga is a 
branch of the Peking- Suiyuan Railway and has proved 
successful after some initial difficulties due to careless 
and inexperienced chauffeurs. Although the service 



THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 181 

badly needs organization to make it entirely safe and 
comfortable, still it has been effective even in its crude 
form. 

At the present time a great part of the business 
which is done with the Mongols is by barter. The Chi- 
nese merchants extend credit to the natives for material 
which they require and accept in return cattle, horses, 
hides, wool, etc., to be paid at the proper season. In 
recent years Russian paper rubles and Chinese silver 
have been the currency of the country, but since the war 
Russian money has so depreciated that it is now prac- 
tically valueless. Mongolia greatly needs banking fa- 
cilities and under the new political conditions undoubt- 
edly these will be materially increased. 

A great source of wealth to Mongolia lies in her mag- 
nificent forests of pine, spruce, larch and birch which 
stretch away in an almost unbroken line of green to far 
beyond the Siberian frontier. As yet but small inroads 
have been made upon these forests, and as I stood one 
afternoon upon the summit of a mountain gazing over 
the miles of timbered hills below me, it seemed as though 
here at least was an inexhaustible supply of splendid 
lumber. But no more pernicious term was ever coined 
than "inexhaustible supply!" I wondered, as I watched 
the sun drop into the somber masses of the forest, how 
long these splendid hills would remain inviolate. Cer- 
tainly not many years after the Gobi Desert has been 
crossed by lines of steel, and railroad sheds have re- 
placed the gold-roofed temples of sacred Urga. 

We are at the very beginning of the days of flying, 



182 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

and no land which contains such magnificent spruce can 
keep its treasure boxes unspoiled for very long. Even 
as I write, aeroplanes are waiting in Peking to make 
their first flight across Mongolia. The desert nomads 
have not yet ceased to wonder at the motor cars which 
cover as many miles of plain in one day as their camels 
cross in ten. But what will they think when twenty men 
leave Kalgan at noon and dine in Urga at seven o'clock 
that night! Seven hundred miles mean very little to us 
now ! The start has been made already and, after all, it 
is largely that which counts. The automobile has come 
to stay, we know; and motor trucks will soon do for 
freight what has already been done for passengers, not 
only from Kalgan to Urga, but west to Uliassutai, and 
on to Kobdo at the very edge of the Altai Mountains. 
Few spots in Mongolia need remain untouched, if com- 
mercial calls are strong enough. 

Last year the first caravans left Feng-chen with 
wireless equipment for the eighteen hundred mile jour- 
ney across Mongolia to Urumchi in the very heart of 
central Asia. Construction at Urga is well advanced 
and it will soon begin at Kashgar. When these stations 
are completed Kobdo in Mongolia, Hami in Chinese 
Turkestan and Sian-fu in Shensi will see wireless shafts 
erected ; and old Peking will be in touch with the remot- 
est spots of her far-flung lands at any time by day or 
night. 

These things are not idle dreams — they are hard busi- 
ness facts already in the first stages of accomplishment. 
Why, then, should the railroad be long delayed? It 



THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 183 

may be built from Kalgan to Urga, or by way of Kwei- 
hua-cheng — either route is feasible. It will mean a di- 
rect connection between Shanghai, China's greatest 
port, and Verkhin Udinsk on the Trans-Siberian Rail- 
road via Tientsin, Peking, Kalgan, Urga, Kiakhta. It 
will shorten the trip to London by at least four days for 
passengers and freight. It will open for settlement and 
commercial development a country of boundless possi- 
bilities and unknown wealth which for centuries has been 
all but forgotten. 

Less than seven hundred years ago Mongolia well- 
nigh ruled the world. Her people were strong beyond 
belief, but her empire crumbled as quickly as it rose, 
leaving to posterity only a glorious tradition and a land 
of mystery. The tradition will endure for centuries; 
but the motor car and aeroplane and wireless have dis- 
pelled the mystery forever. 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 

Away up in northern China, just south of the Mon- 
golian frontier, is a range of mountains inhabited by- 
bands of wild sheep. They are wonderful animals, 
these sheep, with horns like battering-rams. But the 
mountains are also populated by brigands and the two 
do not form an agreeable combination from the sports- 
man's standpoint. 

In reality they are perfectly nice, well-behaved brig- 
ands, but occasionally they forget their manners and 
swoop down upon the caravan road less than a dozen 
miles away. This is done only when scouts bring word 
that cargo valuable enough to make it worth while is 
about to pass. Each time the brigands make a foray 
a return raid by Chinese soldiers can be expected. Oc- 
casionally these are real, "honest-to-goodness" fights, 
and blood may flow on both sides, but the battle some- 
times takes a different form. 

With bugles blowing, the soldiers march out to the 
hills. Through "middle men" the battle ground has 
been agreed upon, and a "David" is chosen from the 
soldiers to meet the "Goliath" of the brigands. But 
David is particularly careful to leave his gun behind, 
and to have his "sling" w T ell stuffed with rifle shells. 

184 



GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 185 

Goliath advances to the combat armed only with a bag 
of silver dollars. Then an even trade ensues — a dollar 
for a cartridge — and the implement of war changes 
hands. 

The soldiers return to the city with bugles sounding 
as merrily as when they left. The commander sends a 
report to Peking of a desperate battle with the brig- 
ands. He says that, through the extreme valor of his 
soldiers, the bandits have been dispersed and many 
killed; that hundreds of cartridges were expended in 
the fight ; therefore, kindly send more as soon as possible. 

All this because the government has an unfortunate 
way of forgetting to pay its soldiers in the outlying 
provinces. When no money is forthcoming and none is 
visible on the horizon, it is not surprising that they take 
other means to obtain it. "Battles" of this type are by 
no means exceptions — they are more nearly the rule in 
many provinces of China. 

But what has all this to do with the wild sheep ? Its 
relation is very intimate, for the presence of brigands in 
those Shansi mountains has made it possible for the ani- 
mals to exist. The hunting grounds are only five days' 
travel from Peking and many foreigners have turned 
longing eyes toward the mountains. But the brigands 
always had to be considered. Since Sir Richard Dane, 
formerly Chief Inspector of the Salt Gabelle, and Mr. 
Charles Coltman were driven out by the bandits in 1915, 
the Chinese Government has refused to grant passports 
to foreigners who wished to shoot in that region. The 
brigands themselves cannot waste cartridges at one dol- 



186 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

lar each on the sheep, so the animals have been allowed 
to breed unmolested. 

Nevertheless, there are not many sheep there. They 
are the last survivors of great herds which once roamed 
the mountains of north China. The technical name of 
the species is Ovis commosa (formerly O. jubata) and 
it is one of the group of bighorns known to sportsmen 
by the Mongol name of argali. In size, as well as ances- 
try, the members of this group are the grandfathers of 
all the sheep. The largest ram of our Rocky Moun- 
tains is a pygmy compared with a full-grown argali. 
Hundreds of thousands of years ago the bighorns, which 
originated in Asia, crossed into Alaska by way of the 
Bering Sea, where there was probably a land connection 
at that time. From Alaska they gradually worked 
southward, along the mountains of the western coast, 
into Mexico and Lower California. In the course of 
time, changed environment developed different species; 
but the migration route from the Old World to the New 
is there for all to read. 

The supreme trophy of a sportsman's life is the head 
of a Mongolian bighorn sheep. I think it was Rex 
Beach who said, "Some men can shoot but not climb. 
Some can climb but not shoot. To get a sheep you must 
be able to climb and shoot, too." 

For its Hall of Asiatic Life, the American Museum 
of Natural History needed a group of argali. More- 
over, we wanted a ram which would fairly represent the 
species, and that meant a very big one. The Reverend 
Harry R. Caldwell, with whom I had hunted tiger in 



GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 187 

south China, volunteered to get them with me. The 
brigands did not worry us unduly, for we both have had 
considerable experience with Chinese bandits and we 
feel that they are like animals — if you don't tease them, 
they won't bite. In this case the "teasing" takes the 
form of carrying anything that they could readily dis- 
pose of — especially money. I decided that my wife 
must remain in Peking. She was in open rebellion 
but there was just a possibility that the brigands might 
annoy us, and we had determined to have those sheep 
regardless of consequences. 

Although we did not expect trouble, I knew that 
Harry Caldwell could be relied upon in any emergency. 
When a man will crawl into a tiger's lair, a tangle of 
sword grass and thorns, just to find out what the brute 
has had for dinner; when he will walk into the open in 
dim light and shoot, with a .22 high-power rifle, a tiger 
which is just ready to charge; when he will go alone and 
unarmed into the mountains to meet a band of brigands 
who have been terrorizing the country, it means that he 
has more nerve than any one man needs in this life! 

After leaving the train at Feng-chen, the journey 
was like all others in north China ; slow progress with a 
cart over atrocious roads which are either a mass of 
sticky mud or inches deep in fine brown dust. We had 
four days of it before we reached the mountains but the 
trip was full of interest to us both, for along the road 
there was an ever-changing picture of provincial life. 
To Harry it was especially illuminating because he had 
spent nineteen years in south China and had never be- 



188 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

fore visited the north. He began to realize what every 
one soon learns who wanders much about the Middle 
Kingdom — that it is never safe to generalize in this 
strange land. Conditions true of one region may be 
absolutely unknown a few hundred miles away. He 
was continually irritated to find that his perfect knowl- 
edge of the dialect of Fukien Province was utterly use- 
less. He was well-nigh as helpless as though he had 
never been in China, for the languages of the north and 
the south are almost as unlike as are French and Ger- 
man. Even our "boys" who were from Peking had some 
difficulty in making themselves understood, although 
we were not more than two hundred miles from the 
capital. 

Instead of hills thickly clothed with sword grass, here 
the slopes were bare and brown. We were too far north 
for rice; corn, wheat, and kaoliang took the place of 
paddy fields. Instead of brick-walled houses we found 
dwellings made of clay like the "adobe" of Mexico and 
Arizona. Sometimes whole villages were dug into the 
hillside and the natives were cave dwellers, spending 
their lives within the earth. 

All north China is spread with loess. During the 
Glacial Period, about one hundred thousand years ago, 
when in Europe and America great rivers of ice were 
descending from the north, central and eastern Asia 
seems to have suffered a progressive dehydration. There 
was little moisture in the air so that ice could not be 
formed. Instead, the climate was cold and dry, while 
violent winds carried the dust in whirling clouds for 



GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 189 

hundreds upon hundreds of miles, spreading it in ever 
thickening layers over the hills and plains. Therefore, 
the "Ice Age" for Europe and America was a "Dust 
Age" for northeastern Asia. 

The inns were a constant source of interest to us both. 
Their spacious courtyards contrasted strangely with the 
filthy "hotels" of southern China. In the north all the 
traffic is by cart, and there must be accommodation for 
hundreds of vehicles ; in the south where goods are car- 
ried by boats, coolies, or on donkey back, extensive com- 
pounds are unnecessary. Each night, wherever we ar- 
rived, we found the courtyard teeming with life and 
motion. Line after line of laden carts wound in through 
the wide swinging gates and lined up in orderly array; 
there was the steady "crunch, crunch, crunch" of feeding 
animals, shouts for the jonggweda (landlord), and 
good-natured chaffing among the carters. In the great 
kitchen, which is also the sleeping room, over blazing 
fires fanned by bellows, pots of soup and macaroni were 
steaming. On the two great hangs (bed platforms), 
heated from below by long flues radiating outward from 
the cooking fires, dozens of mafus were noisily sucking 
in their food or already snoring contentedly, rolled in 
their dusty coats. 

Many kinds of folk were there; rich merchants en- 
veloped in splendid sable coats and traveling in padded 
carts; peddlers with packs of trinkets for the women; 
wandering doctors selling remedies of herbs, tonics made 
from deerhorns or tigers' teeth, and wonderful potions 
of "dragons' bones." Perhaps there was a Buddhist 



190 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

priest or two, a barber, or a tailor. Often a professional 
entertainer sat cross-legged on the hang telling endless 
stories or singing for hours at a time in a high-pitched, 
nasal voice, accompanying himself upon a tiny snake- 
skin violin. It was like a stage drama of concentrated 
Chinese country life. 

Among this polyglot assembly perhaps there may be 
a single man who has arrived with a pack upon his back. 
He is indistinguishable from the other travelers and 
mingles among the mafus, helping now and then to feed 
a horse or adjust a load. But his ears and eyes are open. 
He is a brigand scout who is there to learn what is pass- 
ing on the road. He hears all the gossip from neigh- 
boring towns as well as of those many miles away, for 
the inns are the newspapers of rural China, and it is 
every one's business to tell all he knows. The scout 
marks a caravan, then slips away into the mountains to 
report to the leader of his band. The attack may not 
take place for many days. While the unsuspecting 
mafus are plodding on their way, the bandits are hover- 
ing on the outskirts among the hills until the time is ripe 
to strike. 

I have learned that these brigand scouts are my best 
protection, for when a foreigner arrives at a country inn 
all other subjects of conversation lose their interest. 
Everything about him is discussed and rediscussed, and 
the scouts discover all there is to know. Probably the 
only things I ever carry which a bandit could use or 
dispose of readily, are arms and ammunition. But two 
or three guns are hardly worth the trouble which would 



GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 191 

follow the death of a foreigner. The brigands know that 
there would be no sham battle with Chinese soldiers in 
that event, for the Legations at Peking have a habit of 
demanding reparation from the Government and insist- 
ing that they get it. 

As a raison d'etre for our trip Caldwell and I had 
been hunting ducks, geese, and pheasants industriously 
along the way, and not even the "boys" knew our real 
destination. 

We had looked forward with great eagerness to the 
Tai Hai, a large lake, where it was said that water fowl 
congregated in thousands during the spring and fall. 
We reached the lake the second night after leaving 
Feng-cheng. Darkness had just closed about us when 
we crossed the summit of a high mountain range and 
descended into a narrow, winding cut which eventually 
led us out upon the flat plains of the Tai Hai basin. 
While we were in the pass a dozen flocks of geese slipped 
by above our heads, flying very low, the "wedges" show- 
ing black against the starlit sky. 

With much difficulty we found an inn close beside the 
lake and, after a late supper, snuggled into our fur bags 
to be lulled to sleep by that music most dear to a sports- 
man's heart, the subdued clamor of thousands of water- 
fowl settling themselves for the night. 

At daylight we dressed hurriedly and ran to the lake 
shore. Harry took a station away from the water at 
the base of the hills, while I dropped behind three coni- 
cal mounds which the natives had constructed to obtain 
salt by evaporation. 



192 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

I was hardly in position before two geese came 
straight for me. Waiting until they were almost above 
my head, I knocked down both with a right and left. 
The shots put thousands of birds in motion. Flock after 
flock of geese rose into the air, and long lines of ducks 
skimmed close to the surface, settling away from shore 
or on the mud flats near the water's edge. 

No more birds came near me, and in fifteen min- 
utes I returned to the inn for breakfast. Harry ap- 
peared shortly after with only a mallard duck, for he 
had guessed wrong as to the direction of the flight, and 
was entirely out of the shooting. 

When the carts had started at eight o'clock Harry 
and I rode down the shore of the lake to the south, with 
Chen to hold our horses. The mud flats were dotted 
with hundreds of ruddy sheldrakes, their beautiful bod- 
ies glowing red and gold in the sunlight. A hundred 
yards from shore half a dozen swans drifted about like 
floating snow banks, and ducks and geese by thousands 
rose or settled in the lake. We saw a flock of mallards 
alight in the short marsh grass and when I fired at least 
five hundred greenheads, yellow-nibs, and pintails rose 
in a brown cloud. 

Crouched behind the salt mounds, we had splendid 
shooting and then rode on to join the carts, our ponies 
loaded with ducks and geese. The road swung about to 
the north, and we saw geese in tens of thousands coming 
into the lake across the mountain passes from their 
summer breeding grounds in Mongolia and far Siberia. 
Regiment after regiment swept past, circled away to the 



GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 19S 

west, and dropped into the water as though at the com- 
mand of a field marshal. 

Although we were following the main road to Kwei- 
hua-cheng, a city of considerable importance not far 
from the mountains which contained the sheep, we had 
no intention of going there. Neither did we wish to 
pass through any place where there might be soldiers, 
so on the last day's march we left the highway and fol-> 
lowed an unimportant trail to the tiny village of Wu- 
shi-tu, which nestles against the mountain's base. Here 
we made our camp in a Chinese house and obtained two 
Mongol hunters. We had hoped to live in tents, but 
there was not a stick of wood for fuel. The natives 
burn either coal or grass and twigs, but these would not 
keep us warm in an open camp. 

About the village rose a chaotic mass of saw-toothed 
mountains cut, to the east, by a stupendous gorge. We 
stood silent with awe, when we first climbed a winding, 
white trail to the summit of the mountain and gazed 
into the abysmal depths. My eye followed an eagle 
which floated across the chasm to its perch on a project- 
ing crag ; thence down the sheer face of the cliff a thou- 
sand feet to the stream which has carved this colossal 
caflon from the living rock. Like a shining silver trac- 
ing it twisted and turned, foaming over rocks and run- 
ning in smooth, green sheets between vertical walls of 
granite. To the north we looked across at a splendid 
panorama of saw-toothed peaks and ragged pinnacles 
tinted with delicate shades of pink and lavender. Be- 
neath our feet were slabs of pure white marble and great 



194 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

blocks of greenish feldspar. Among the peaks were 
deep ravines and, farther to the east, rolling uplands 
carpeted with grass. There the sheep are found. 

We killed only one goral and a roebuck during the 
first two days, for a violent gale made hunting well-nigh 
impossible. On the third morning the sun rose in a 
sky as blue as the waters of a tropic sea, and not a breath 
of air stirred the silver poplar leaves as we crossed the 
rocky stream bed to the base of the mountains north of 
camp. Fifteen hundred feet above us towered a ragged 
granite ridge which must be crossed ere we could gain 
entrance to the grassy valleys beyond the barrier. 

We had toiled halfway up the slope, when my hunter 
sank into the grass, pointed upward, and whispered, 
"pan-yang 33 (wild sheep). There, on the very summit 
of the highest pinnacle, stood a magnificent ram sil- 
houetted against the sky. It was a stage introduction 
to the greatest game animal in all the world. 

Motionless, as though sculptured from the living 
granite, it gazed across the valley toward the village 
whence we had come. Through my glasses I could see 
every detail of its splendid body — the wash of gray with 
which many winters had tinged its neck and flanks, the 
finely drawn legs, and the massive horns curling about 
a head as proudly held as that of a Roman warrior. He 
stood like a statue for half an hour, while we crouched 
motionless in the trail below ; then he turned deliberately 
and disappeared. 

When we reached the summit of the ridge the ram was 
nowhere to be seen, but we found his tracks on a path 



GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 195 

leading down a knifelike outcrop to the bottom of an- 
other valley. I felt sure that he would turn eastward 
toward the grassy uplands, but Na-mon-gin, my Mon- 
gol hunter, pointed north to a sea of ragged mountains. 
We groaned as we looked at those towering peaks; 
moreover, it seemed hopeless to hunt for a single animal 
in that chaos of ravines and canons. 

We had already learned, however, that the Mongol 
knew almost as much about what a sheep would do as 
did the animal itself. It was positively uncanny. Per- 
haps we would see a herd of sheep half a mile away. 
The old fellow would seat himself, nonchalantly fill his 
pipe and puff contentedly, now and then glancing at the 
animals. In a few moments he would announce what 
was about to happen, and he was seldom wrong. 

Therefore, when he descended to the bottom of the 
valley we accepted his dictum without a protest. At 
the creek bed Harry and his young hunter left us to 
follow a deep ravine which led upward a little to the 
left, while Na-mon-gin and I climbed to the crest by 
way of a precipitous ridge. 

Not fifteen minutes after we parted, Harry's rifle 
banged three times in quick succession, the reports roll- 
ing out from the gorge in majestic waves of sound. A 
moment later the old Mongol saw three sheep silhouetted 
for an instant against the sky as they scrambled across 
the ridge. Then a voice floated faintly up to me from 
out the canon. 

"I've got a f-i-n-e r-a-m," it said, "a b-e-a-u-t-y," 
and even at that distance I could hear its happy ring. 



196 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

"Good for Harry," I thought. "He certainly de- 
served it after his work of last night ;" for on the way 
home his hunter had seen an enormous ram climbing a 
mountain side and they had followed it to the summit 
only to lose its trail in the gathering darkness. Harry 
had stumbled into camp, half dead with fatigue, but 
with his enthusiasm undiminished. 

When Na-mon-gin and I had reached the highest 
peak and found a trail which led along the mountain 
side just below the crest, we kept steadily on, now and 
then stopping to scan the grassy ravines and valleys 
which radiated from the ridge like the ribs of a giant 
fan. At half past eleven, as we rounded a rocky shoul- 
der, I saw four sheep feeding in the bottom of a gorge 
far below us. 

Quite unconscious of our presence, they worked out 
of the ravine across a low spur and into a deep gorge 
where the grass still showed a tinge of green. As the 
last one disappeared, we dashed down the slope and 
came up just above the sheep. With my glasses I could 
see that the leader carried a fair pair of horns, but that 
the other three rams were small, as argali go. 

Lying flat, I pushed my rifle over the crest and aimed 
at the biggest ram. Three or four tiny grass stems were 
directly in my line of sight, and fearing that they might 
deflect my bullet, I drew back and shifted my position 
a few feet to the right. 

One of the sheep must have seen the movement, al- 
though we were directly above them, and instantly all 
were off. In four jumps they had disappeared around 



GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 197 

a bowlder, giving me time for only a hurried shot at the 
last one's white rump-patch. The bullet struck a few 
inches behind the ram, and the valley was empty. 

Looking down where they had been so quietly feed- 
ing only a few moments before, I called myself all 
known varieties of a fool. I felt very bad indeed that I 
had bungled hopelessly my first chance at an argali. 
But the sympathetic old hunter patted me on the shoul- 
der and said in Chinese, "Never mind. They were small 
ones anyway — not worth having." They were very 
much worth having to me, however, and all the light 
seemed to have gone out of the world. We smoked a 
cigarette, but there was no consolation in that, and I 
followed the hunter around the peak with a heart as 
heavy as lead. 

Half an hour later we sat down for a look around. 
I studied every ridge and gully with rny glasses with- 
out seeing a sign of life. The four sheep had disap- 
peared as completely as though one of the yawning ra- 
vines had swallowed them up ; the great valley bathed 
in golden sunlight was deserted and as silent as the 
tomb. 

I was just tearing the wrapper from a piece of choco- 
late when the hunter touched me on the arm and said 
quietly, Cf Pan-yang li la* (A sheep has come). He 
pointed far down a ridge running out at a right angle 
to the one on which we were sitting, but I could see 
nothing. Then I scanned every square inch of rock, 
but still saw no sign of life. 

The hunter laughingly whispered, "I can see better 



198 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

than you can even with your foreign eyes. He is stand- 
ing in that trail — he may come right up to us." 

I tried again, following the thin, white line as it 
wound from us along the side of the knifelike ridge. 
Just where it vanished into space I saw the sheep, a 
splendid ram, standing like a statue of gray-brown 
granite and gazing squarely at us. He was fully half 
a mile away, but the hunter had seen him the instant he 
appeared. Without my glasses the animal was merely 
a blur to me, but the marvelous eyes of the Mongol 
could detect its every movement. 

"It is the same one we saw this morning," he said. 
"I was sure we would find him over here. He has very 
big horns — much better than those others." 

That was quite true; but the others had given me a 
shot and this ram, splendid as he was, seemed as un- 
obtainable as the stars. For an hour we watched him. 
Sometimes he would turn about to look across the ra- 
vines on either side and once he came a dozen feet to- 
ward us along the path. The hunter smoked quietly, 
now and then looking through my glasses. "After a 
while he will go to sleep," he said, "then we can shoot 
him." 

I must confess that I had but little hope. The ram 
seemed too splendid and much, much too far away. But 
I could feast my eyes on his magnificent head and al- 
most count the rings on his curling horns. 

A flock of red-legged partridges sailed across from 
the opposite ridge, uttering their rapid-fire call and 
alighted almost at our feet. Then each one seemed to 



GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 199 

melt into the mountain side, vanishing like magic among 
the grass and stones, I wondered mildly why they had 
concealed themselves so suddenly, but a moment later 
there sounded a subdued whir, like the motor of an aero- 
plane far up in the sky. Three shadows drifted over, 
and I saw three huge black eagles swinging in ever 
lowering circles about our heads. I knew then that the 
partridges had sought the protection of our presence 
from their mortal enemies, the eagles. 

When I looked at the sheep again he was lying down 
squarely in the trail, lazily raising his head now and then 
to gaze about. The hunter inspected the ram through 
my glasses and prepared to go. We rolled slowly over 
the ridge and then hurried around to the projecting 
spur at the end of which the ram was lying. 

The going was very bad indeed. Pieces of crumbled 
granite were continually slipping under foot, and at 
times we had to cling like flies to a wall of rock with a 
sheer drop of hundreds of feet below us. Twice the 
Mongol cautiously looked over the ridge, but each time 
shook his head and worked his way a little farther. At 
last he motioned me to slide up beside him. Pushing 
my rifle over the rock before me, I raised myself a few 
inches and saw the massive head and neck of the ram 
two hundred yards away. His body was behind a rocky 
shoulder, but he was looking squarely at us and in a 
second would be off. 

I aimed carefully just under his chin, and at the roar 
of the high-power shell, the ram leaped backward. 
"You hit him," said the Mongol, but I felt he must be 



200 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

wrong; if the bullet had found the neck he would have 
dropped like lead. 

Never in all my years of hunting have I had a feeling 
of such intense surprise and self-disgust. I had been 
certain of the shot and it was impossible to believe that 
I had missed. A lump rose in my throat and I sat with 
my head resting on my hands in the uttermost depths of 
dejection. 

And then the impossible happened! Why it hap- 
pened, I shall never know. A kind Providence must 
have directed the actions of the sheep, for, as I raised my 
eyes, I saw again that enormous head and neck appear 
from behind a rock a hundred yards away; just that 
head with its circlet of massive horns and the neck — 
nothing more. Almost in a daze I lifted my rifle, saw 
the little ivory bead of the front sight center on that 
gray neck, and touched the trigger. A thousand echoes 
crashed back upon us. There was a clatter of stones, a 
confused vision of a ponderous bulk heaving up and 
back — and all was still. But it was enough for me; 
there could be no mistake this time. The ram was 
mine. 

The sudden transition from utter dejection to the 
greatest triumph of a sportsman's life set me wild with 
joy. I yelled and pounded the old Mongol on the back 
until he begged for mercy ; then I whirled him about in 
a war dance on the summit of the ridge. I wanted to 
leap down the rocks where the sheep had disappeared 
but the hunter held my arm. For ten minutes we sat 
there waiting to make sure that the ram would not dash 



GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 201 

away while we were out of sight in the ravine below. 
But I knew in my heart that it was all unnecessary. My 
bullet had gone where I wanted it to go and that was 
quite enough. No sheep that ever walked could live 
with a Mannlicher ball squarely in its neck. 

When we finally descended, the animal lay halfway 
down the slope, feebly kicking. What a huge brute he 
was, and what a glorious head! I had never dreamed 
that an argali could be so splendid. His horns were 
perfect, and my hands could not meet around them at 
the base. 

Then, of course, I wanted to know what had hap- 
pened at my first shot. The evidence was there upon 
his face. My bullet had gone an inch high, struck him 
in the corner of the mouth, and emerged from his right 
cheek. It must have been a painful wound, and I shall 
never cease to wonder what strange impulse brought 
him back after he had been so badly stung. The second 
ball had been centered in the neck as though in the 
bull's-eye of a target. 

The skin and head of the sheep made a pack weigh- 
ing nearly one hundred pounds, and the old Mongol 
groaned as he looked up at the mountain barriers which 
separated us from camp. On the summit of the first 
ridge we found the trail over which we had passed in 
the morning. Half an hour later the hunter jerked 
me violently behind a ledge of rock. "Pan-yang" he 
whispered, "there, on the mountain side. Can't you see 
him?" I could not, and he tried to point to it with my 
rifle. Just at that instant what I had supposed to be a 



202 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

brown rock came to life in a whirl of dust and vanished 
into the ravine below. 

We waited breathlessly for perhaps a minute — it 
seemed hours — then the head and shoulders of a sheep 
appeared from behind a bowlder. I aimed low and fired, 
and the animal crumpled in its tracks. A second later 
two rams and a ewe dashed from the same spot and 
stopped upon the hillside less than a hundred yards 
away. Instinctively I sighted on the largest but 
dropped my rifle without touching the trigger. The 
sheep was small, and even if we did need him for the 
group we could not carry his head and skin to camp that 
night. The wolves would surely have found his carcass 
before dawn, and it would have been a useless waste of 
life. 

The one I had killed was a fine young ram. With 
the skin, head, and parts of the meat packed upon my 
shoulders we started homeward at six o'clock. Our 
only exit lay down the river bed in the bottom of a 
great canon, for in the darkness it would have been dan- 
gerous to follow the trail along the cliffs . In half an 
hour it was black night in the gorge. The vertical walls 
of rock shut out even the starlight, and we could not see 
more than a dozen feet ahead. 

I shall never forget that walk. After wading the 
stream twenty-eight times I lost count. I was too cold 
and tired and had fallen over too many rocks to have it 
make the slightest difference how many more than 
twenty-eight times we went into the icy water. The 
hundred-pound pack upon my back weighed more every 



GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 203 

hour, but the thought of those two splendid rams was as 
good as bread and wine. 

Harry was considerably worried when we reached 
camp at eleven o'clock, for in the village there had been 
much talk of bandits. Even before dinner we meas- 
ured the rams and found that the horns of the one he had 
killed exceeded the published records for the species by 
half an inch in circumference. The horns were forty- 
seven inches in length, but were broken at the tips ; the 
original length was fifty-one inches; the circumference 
at the base was twenty inches. Moreover, mine was not 
far behind in size. 

As I snuggled into my fur sleeping bag that night, I 
realized that it had been the most satisfactory hunting 
day of my life. The success of the group was assured, 
with a record ram for the central figure. We had three 
specimens already, and the others would not be hard to 
get. 

The next morning four soldiers were waiting in the 
courtyard when we awoke. With many apologies they 
informed us that they had been sent by the commander 
of the garrison at Kwei-hua-cheng to ask us to go back 
with them. The mountains were very dangerous ; brig- 
ands were swarming in the surrounding country; the 
commandant was greatly worried for our safety. 
Therefore, would we be so kind as to break camp at 
once. 

We told them politely, but firmly, that it was impos- 
sible for us to comply with their request. We needed 
the sheep for a great museum in New York, and we 



204 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

could not return without them. As they could see for 
themselves our passports had been properly viseed by 
the Foreign Office in Peking, and we were prepared to 
stay. 

The soldiers returned to Kwei-hua-cheng, and the 
following day we were honored by a visit from the com- 
mandant himself. To him we repeated our determina- 
tion to remain. He evidently realized that we could not 
be dislodged and suggested a compromise arrangement. 
He would send soldiers to guard our house and to ac- 
company us while we were hunting. We assented read- 
ily, because we knew Chinese soldiers. Of course, the 
sentinel at the door troubled us not at all, and the ones 
who were to accompany us were easily disposed of. For 
the first day's hunt with our guard we selected the 
roughest part of the mountain, and set such a terrific 
pace up the almost perpendicular slope that before long 
they were left far behind. They never bothered us 
again. 



CHAPTER XV 

MONGOLIAN AROALI 

Although we had seen nearly a dozen sheep where we 
killed our first three rams, the mountains were deserted 
when Harry returned the following morning. He 
hunted faithfully, but did not see even a roebuck; the 
sheep all had left for other feeding grounds. I re- 
mained in camp to superintend the preparation of our 
specimens. 

The next day we had a glorious hunt. By six o'clock 
we were climbing the winding, white trail west of camp, 
and for half an hour we stood gazing into the gloomy 
depths of the stupendous gorge, as yet unlighted by the 
morning sun. Then we separated, each making toward 
the grassy uplands by different routes. 

Na-mon-gin led me along the summit of a broken 
ridge, but, evidently, he did not expect to find sheep in 
the ravines, for he kept straight on, mile after mile, with 
never a halt for rest. At last we reached a point where 
the plateau rolled away in grassy waves of brown. We 
were circling a rounded hill, just below the crest, when, 
not thirty yards away, three splendid roe deer jumped 
to their feet and stood as though frozen, gazing at us ; 
then, with a snort, they dashed down the slope and up 
the other side. They had not yet disappeared, when two 

205 



206 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

other bucks crossed a ridge into the bottom of the draw. 
It was a sore trial to let them go, but the old hunter had 
his hand upon my arm and shook his head. 

Passing the summit of the hill, we sat down for a 
look around. Before us, nearly a mile away, three shal- 
low, grass-filled valleys dropped steeply from the roll- 
ing meadowland. Almost instantly through my binoc- 
ulars I caught the moving forms of three sheep in the 
bottom of the central draw. "Pan-yang" I said to the 
Mongol. "Yes, yes, I see them," he answered. "One 
has very big horns. " He was quite right ; for the largest 
ram carried a splendid head, and the other was by no 
means small. The third was a tiny ewe. The animals 
wandered about nibbling at the grass, but did not move 
out of the valley bottom. After studying them awhile 
the hunter remarked, "Soon they will go to sleep. We'll 
wait till then. They would hear or smell us if we went 
over now." 

I ate one of the three pears I had brought for tiffin 
and smoked a cigarette. The hunter stretched himself 
out comfortably upon the grass and pulled away at his 
pipe. It was very pleasant there, for we were protected 
from the wind, and the sun was delightfully warm. I 
watched the sheep through the glasses and wondered if 
I should carry home the splendid ram that night. Fi- 
nally the little ewe lay down and the others followed her 
example. 

We were just preparing to go when the hunter 
touched my arm. "Pan-yang" he whispered. "There, 
coming over the hill. Don't move." Sure enough, a 



MONGOLIAN ARGALI 207 

sheep was trotting slowly down the hillside in our di- 
rection. Why he did not see or smell us, I cannot 
imagine, for the wind was in his direction. But he 
came on, passed within one hundred feet, and stopped 
on the summit of the opposite swell. What a shot! 
He was so close that I could have counted the rings on 
his horns — and they were good horns, too, just the size 
we wanted for the group. But the hunter would not 
let me shoot. His heart was set upon the big ram 
peacefully sleeping a mile away. 

"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush" is a 
motto which I have followed with good success in hunt- 
ing, and I was loath to let that argali go even for the 
prospect of the big one across the valley. But I had 
a profound respect for the opinion of my hunter. He 
usually guessed right, and I had found it safe to fol- 
low his advice. 

So we watched the sheep walk slowly over the crest 
of the hill. The Mongol did not tell me then, but he 
knew that the animal was on his way to join the others, 
and his silence cost us the big ram. You may wonder 
how he knew it. I can only answer that what that' 
Mongol did not know about the ways of sheep was not 
worth learning. He seemed to think as the sheep 
thought, but, withal, was a most intelligent and delight- 
ful companion. His ready sympathy, his keen humor, 
and his interest in helping me get the finest specimens 
of the animals I wanted, endeared him to me in a way 
which only a sportsman can understand. His Shansi 
dialect and my limited Mandarin made a curious com- 



208 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

bination of the Chinese language, but we could al- 
ways piece it out with signs, and we never misunder- 
stood each other on any important matter. 

We had many friendly differences of opinion about 
the way in which to conduct a stalk, and his childlike 
glee when he was proved correct was most refreshing. 
One morning I got the better of him, and for days he 
could not forget it. We were sitting on a hillside, and 
with my glasses I picked up a herd of sheep far away 
on the uplands. "Yes," he said, "one is a very big 
ram." How he could tell at that distance was a mys- 
tery to me, but I did not question his statement for he 
had proved too often that his range of sight was al- 
most beyond belief. 

We started toward the sheep, and after half a mile 
I looked again. Then I thought I saw a grasscutter, 
and the animals seemed like donkeys. I said as much 
but the hunter laughed. "Why, I saw the horns," he 
said. "One is a big one, a very big one." I stopped 
a second time and made out a native bending over, cut- 
ting grass. But I could not convince the Mongol. He 
disdained my glasses and would not even put them to 
his eyes. "I don't have to — I know they are sheep," 
he laughed. But I, too, was sure. "Well, we'll see," 
he said. When we looked again, there could be no mis- 
take ; the sheep were donkeys. It was a treat to watch 
the Mongol's face, and I made much capital of his mis- 
take, for he had so often teased me when I was wrong. 

But to return to the sheep across the valley which 
we were stalking on that sunlit Thursday noon. After 



MONGOLIAN ARGALI 209 

the ram had disappeared we made our way slowly 
around the hilltop, whence he had come, to gain a con- 
necting meadow which would bring us to the ravine 
where the argali were sleeping. On the way I was in 
a fever of indecision. Ought I to have let that ram 
go? He was just what we wanted for the group, and 
something might happen to prevent a shot at the oth- 
ers. It was "a bird in the hand" again, and I had been 
false to the motto which had so often proved true. 

Then the "something" I had feared did happen. We 
saw a grasscutter with two donkeys emerge from a 
ravine on the left and strike along the grassy bridge 
five hundred yards beyond us. If he turned to the 
right across the upper edge of the meadows, we could 
whistle for our sheep. Even if he kept straight ahead, 
possibly they might scent him. The Mongol's face was 
like a thundercloud. I believe he would have strangled 
that grasscutter could he have had him in his hands. 
But the Fates were kind, and the man with his donkeys 
kept to the left across the uplands. Even then my 
Mongol would not hurry. His motto was "Slowly, 
slowly," and we seemed barely to crawl up the slope of 
the shallow valley which I hoped still held the sheep. 

On the summit of the draw the old hunter motioned 
me behind him and cautiously raised his head. Then a 
little farther. Another step and a long look. He 
stood on tiptoe, and, settling back, quietly motioned 
me,to move up beside him. 

Just then a gust of wind swept across the hilltop 
and into the ravine. There was a rush of feet, a clat- 



210 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

ter of sliding rock, and three argali dashed into view 
on the opposite slope. They stopped two hundred 
yards away. My hunter was frantically whispering, 
"One more. Don't shoot. Don't shoot." I was at a 
loss to understand, for I knew there were only three 
sheep in the draw. The two rams both seemed enor- 
mous, and I let drive at the leader. He went down 
like lead — shot through the shoulders. The two others 
ran a few yards and stopped again. When I fired, the 
sheep whirled about but did not fall. I threw in an- 
other shell and held the sight well down. The "putt" 
of a bullet on flesh came distinctly to us, but the ram 
stood without a motion. 

The third shot was too much, and he slumped for- 
ward, rolled over, and crashed to the bottom of the 
ravine. All the time Na-mon-gin was frantically whis- 
pering, "Not right. Not right. The big one. The big 
one." As the second sheep went down I learned the rea- 
son. Out from the valley directly below us rushed a 
huge ram, washed with white on the neck and shoulders 
and carrying a pair of enormous, curling horns. I was 
too surprised to move. How could four sheep be there, 
when I knew there were only three! 

Usually I am perfectly cool when shooting and have 
all my excitement when the work is done, but the un- 
expected advent of that ram turned on the thrills a 
bit too soon. I forgot what I had whispered to myself 
at every shot, "Aim low, aim low. You are shooting 
down hill." I held squarely on his gray-white shoulder 
and pulled the trigger. The bullet just grazed his 



MONGOLIAN ARGALI 211 

back. He ran a few steps and stopped. Again I fired 
hurriedly, and the ball missed him by the fraction of 
an inch. I saw it strike and came to my senses with a 
jerk; but it was too late, for the rifle was empty. Be- 
fore I could cram in another shell the sheep was gone. 

Na-mon-gin was absolutely disgusted. Even though 
I had killed two fine rams, he wanted the big one. 
"But," I said, "where did the fourth sheep come from? 
I saw only three." He looked at me in amazement. 
"Didn't you know that the ram which walked by us 
went over to the others?" he answered. "Any one 
ought to have known that much." 

Well, I hadn't known. Otherwise, I should have held 
my fire. Right there the Mongol read me a lecture on 
too much haste. He said I was like every other for- 
eigner — always in a rush. He said a lot of other things 
which I accepted meekly, for I knew that he was right. 
I always am in a hurry. Missing that ram had taken 
most of the joy out of the others; and to make matters 
worse, the magnificent animal stationed himself on the 
very hillside where we had been sitting when we saw 
them first and, with the little ewe close beside him, 
watched us for half an hour. 

Na-mon-gin glared at him and shook his fist. "We'll 
get you to-morrow, you old rabbit," he said; and then 
to me, "Don't you care. I won't eat till we kill him." 

For the next ten minutes the kindly old Mongol 
devoted himself to bringing a smile to my lips. He 
told me he knew just where that ram would go; we 
couldn't have carried in his head anyway; that it would 



212 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

be much better to save him for to-morrow; and that I 
had killed the other two so beautifully that he was proud 
of me. 

I continued to feel better when I saw the two dead 
argali. They were both fine rams, in perfect condi- 
tion, with beautiful horns. One of them was the sheep 
which had walked so close to us ; there was no doubt of 
that, for I had been able to see the details of his "face 
and figure." Every argali has its own special charac- 
ters which are unmistakable. In the carriage of his 
head, the curve of his horns, and in coloration, he is as 
individual as a human being. 

While we were examining the sheep, Harry and his 
hunter appeared upon the rim of the ravine. They 
brought with them, on a donkey, the skin and head of 
a fine two-year-old ram which he had killed an hour ear- 
lier far beyond us on the uplands. It fitted exactly 
into our series, and when we had another big ram and 
two ewes, the group would be complete. 

Poor Harry was hobbling along just able to walk. 
He had strained a tendon in his right leg the previ- 
ous morning, and had been enduring the most excru- 
ciating pain all day. He wanted to stay and help us 
skin the sheep, but I would not let him. We were a 
long way from camp, and it would require all his 
strength to get back at all. 

At half-past four we finished with the sheep, and 
tied the skins and much of the meat on the two don- 
keys which Harry had commandeered. Our only way 
home lay down the river bed, for in the darkness we 



MONGOLIAN ARGALI 213 

could not follow the trail along the cliffs. By six 
o'clock it was black night in the gorge. 

The donkeys were our only salvation, for by instinct 
— it couldn't have been sight — they followed the trail 
along the base of the cliffs. By keeping my hands 
upon the back of the rearmost animal, and the two 
Mongols close to me, we got out of the canon and into 
the wider valley. When we reached the village I was 
hungry enough to eat chips, for I had had only three 
pears since six o'clock in the morning, and it was then 
nine at night. 

Harry, limping into camp just after dark, had met 
my cousin, Commander Thomas Hutchins, Naval At- 
tache of the American Legation, and Major Austin 
Barker of the British Army, whom we had been ex- 
pecting. They had reached the village about ten 
o'clock in the morning and spent the afternoon shoot- 
ing hares near a beautiful temple which Harry had 
discovered among the hills three miles from camp. The 
boys had waited dinner for me, and we ate it amid a 
gale of laughter — we were always laughing during the 
five days that Tom and Barker were with us. 

Harry was out of the hunting the next day because 
his leg needed a complete rest. I took Tom out with 
me, while Barker was piloted by an old Mongol who 
gave promise of being a good hunter. Tom and I 
climbed the white trail to the summit of the ridge, while 
Barker turned off to the left to gain the peaks on the 
other side of the gorge. Na-mon-gin was keen for the 
big ram which I had missed the day before. He had 



214 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

a very definite impression of just where that sheep was 
to be found, and he completely ignored the ravines on 
either side of the trail. 

Not half a mile from the summit of the pass, the 
Mongol stopped and said, "Pan-yang — on that ridge 
across the valley." He looked again and turned to 
me with a smile. "It is the same ram," he said. "I 
knew he would be here." Sure enough, when I found 
the sheep with my glasses, I recognized our old friend. 
The little ewe was with him, and they had been joined 
by another ram carrying a circlet of horns, not far short 
of the big fellow's in size. 

For half an hour we watched them while the Mon- 
gols smoked. The sheep were standing on the very 
crest of a ridge across the river, moving a few steps 
now and then, but never going far from where we first 
discovered them. My hunter said that soon they would 
go to sleep, and in less than half an hour they filed 
down hill into the valley; then we, too, went down, 
crossed a low ridge, and descended to the river's edge. 
The climb up the other side was decidedly stiff, and it 
was nearly an hour before we were peering into the ra- 
vine where the sheep had disappeared. They were not 
there, and the hunter said they had gone either up or 
down the valley — he could not tell which way. 

We went up first, but no sheep. Then we crossed 
to the ridge where we had first seen the argali and cau- 
tiously looked over a ledge of rocks. There they were, 
about three hundred yards below, and on the alert, for 
they had seen Tom's hunter, who had carelessly ex- 



MONGOLIAN ARGALI 215 

posed himself on the crest of the ridge. Tom fired 
hurriedly, neglecting to remember that he was shooting 
down hill, and, consequently, overshot the big ram. 
They rushed off, two shots of mine falling short at 
nearly four hundred yards as they disappeared behind 
a rocky ledge. 

My Mongol said that we might intercept them if we 
hurried, and he led me a merry chase into the bottom 
of the ravine and up the other side. The sheep were 
there, but standing in an amphitheater formed by in- 
accessible cliffs. I advocated going to the ridge above 
and trying for a shot, but the hunter scoffed at the 
idea. He said that they would surely scent or hear us 
long before we could see them. 

Tom and his Mongol joined us in a short time, and 
for an hour we lay in the sunshine waiting for the sheep 
to compose themselves. It was delightfully warm, and 
we were perfectly content to remain all the afternoon 
amid the glorious panorama of encircling peaks. 

At last Na-mon-gin prepared to leave. He indi- 
cated that we were to go below and that Tom's hunter 
was to drive the sheep toward us. When we reached 
the river, the Mongol placed Tom behind a rock at 
the mouth of the amphitheater. He took me halfway 
up the slope, and we settled ourselves behind two 
bowlders. 

I was breathing hard from the strenuous climb, and 
the old fellow waited until I was ready to shoot; then 
he gave a signal, and Tom's hunter appeared at the 
very summit of the rocky amphitheater. Instantly the 



216 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

sheep were on the move, running directly toward us. 
They seemed to be as large as elephants, for never be- 
fore had I been as close to a living argali. Just as the 
animals mounted the crest of a rocky ledge, not more 
than fifty yards away, Na-mon-gin whistled sharply, 
and the sheep stopped as though turned to stone. 

"Now," he whispered, "shoot." As I brought my 
rifle to the level it banged in the air. I had been show- 
ing the hunters how to use the delicate set-trigger, and 
had carelessly left it on. The sheep instantly dashed 
away, but there was only one avenue of escape, and 
that was down hill past me. My second shot broke the 
hind leg of the big ram; the third struck him in the 
abdomen, low down, and he staggered, but kept on. 
The sheep had reached the bottom of the valley before 
my fourth bullet broke his neck. 

Tom opened fire when the other rarn and the ewe 
appeared at the mouth of the amphitheater, but his 
rear sight had been loosened in the climb down the 
cliff, and his shots went wild. It was hard luck, for I 
was very anxious to have him kill an argali. 

The abdomen shot would have finished the big ram 
eventually, and I might have killed the other before it 
crossed the creek; but experience has taught me that 
it is best to take no chances with a wounded animal in 
rough country such as this. I have lost too many 
specimens by being loath to finish them off when they 
were badly hit. 

My ram was a beauty. His horns were almost equal 
to those of the record head which Harry had killed on 



PLATE XIV 




AVHERE THE BIGHORN SHEEP ARE FOUND 



! 







MONGOLIAN ARGALI 217 

the first day, but one of them was marred by a broken 
tip. The old warrior must have weathered nearly a 
score of winters and have had many battles. But his 
new coat was thick and fine — the most beautiful of any 
we had seen. As he lay in the bottom of the valley I 
was impressed again by the enormous size of an argalis 
body. There was an excellent opportunity to com- 
pare it with a donkey's, for before we had finished our 
smoke, a Mongol arrived driving two animals before 
him. The sheep was about one-third larger than the 
donkey, and with his tremendous neck and head must 
have weighed a great deal more. 

After the ram had been skinned Tom and I left 
the men to pack in the meat, skin, and head, while we 
climbed to the summit of the pass and wandered slowly 
home in the twilight. Major Barker came in shortly 
after we reached the village. He was almost done, for 
his man had taken him into the rough country north 
of camp. A strenuous day for a man just from the 
city, but Barker was enthusiastic. Even though he had 
not killed a ram, he had wounded one in the leg and 
had counted twenty sheep — more than either Harry or 
I had seen during the entire time we had been at Wu- 
shi-tu. 

When we awoke at five o'clock in the morning, Tom 
stretched himself very gingerly and remarked that the 
only parts of him which weren't sore were his eyelids! 
Harry was still hors de combat with the strained ten- 
don in his leg, and I had the beginning of an attack of 
influenza. Barker admitted that his joints "creaked" 



218 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

considerably; still, he was full of enthusiasm. We 
started off together but separated when six miles from 
camp. He found sheep on the uplands almost at once, 
but did not get a head. Barker was greatly handi- 
capped by using a special model U. S. Army Spring- 
field rifle, which weighed almost as much as a machine 
gun, and could not have been less fitted for hunting in 
rough country. No man ever worked harder for an 
argali than he did, and he deserved the best head in 
the mountains. By noon I was burning with fever and 
almost unable to drag myself back to camp. I arrived 
at four o'clock, just after Tom returned. He had not 
seen a sheep. 

The Major hunted next day, but was unsuccessful, 
and none of us went to the mountains again, for I had 
nearly a week in bed, and Harry was only able to hob- 
ble about the court. On the 28th of October, Tom 
and Barker left for Peking. Harry and I were sorry 
to have them leave us. I have camped with many men 
in many countries of the world, but with no two who 
were better field companions. Neither Harry nor I 
will ever forget the happy days with them. 

It was evident that I could not hunt again for at 
least a week, although I could sit a horse. We had 
seven sheep, and the group was assured; therefore, we 
decided to shift camp to the wapiti country, fifty miles 
away hoping that by the time we reached there, we 
both would be fit again. 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE "HORSE-DEER" OF SHANSI 

All the morning our carts had bumped and rattled 
over the stones in a somber valley one hundred and 
fifty li 1 from where we had killed the sheep. With 
every mile the precipitous cliffs .pressed in more closely 
upon us until at last the gorge was blocked by a sheer 
wall of rock. Our destination was a village named 
Wu-tai-hai, but there appeared to be no possible place 
for a village in that narrow canon. 

We were a quarter of a mile from the barrier before 
we could distinguish a group of mud-walled huts, seem- 
ingly plastered against the rock like a collection of 
swallows' nests. No one but a Chinese would have 
dreamed of building a house in that desolate place. 
It was Wu-tai-hai, without a doubt, and Harry and I 
rode forward to investigate. 

At the door of a tiny hut we were met by one of 
our Chinese taxidermists. He ushered us into the 
court and, with a wave of his hand, announced, "This 
is the American Legation." The yard was a mass of 
straw and mud. From the gaping windows of the 
house bits of torn paper fluttered in the wind; inside, 
at one end of the largest room, was a bed platform 

1 A H equate about one-third of a mile. 

219 



220 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

made of mud; at the other, a fat mother hog with five 
squirming "piglets" sprawled contentedly on the dirt 
floor. Six years before Colonel (then Captain) 
Thomas Holcomb, of the United States Marine Corps, 
had spent several days at this hut while hunting elk. 
Therefore, it will be known to Peking Chinese until 
the end of time as the "American Legation." 

An inspection of the remaining houses in the village 
disclosed no better quarters, so our boys ousted the 
sow and her family, swept the house, spread the hang 
and floor with clean straw, and pasted fresh paper over 
the windows. We longed to use our tents, but there 
was nothing except straw or grass to burn, and cook- 
ing would be impossible. The villagers were too poor 
to buy coal from Kwei-hua-cheng, forty miles away, 
and there was not a sign of wood on the bare, brown 
hills. 

At the edge of the hang, in these north Shansi houses, 
there is always a clay stove which supports a huge iron 
pot. A hand bellows is built into the side of the stove, 
and by feeding straw or grass with one hand and ener- 
getically manipulating the bellows with the other, a 
fire sufficient for simple cooking is obtained. 

Except for a few hours of the day the house is as 
cold as the yard outside, but the natives mind it not at 
all. Men and women alike dress in sheepskin coats 
and padded cotton trousers. They do not expect to 
remove their clothing when they come indoors, and 
warmth, except at night, is a nonessential in their 
scheme of life. A system of flues draws the heat from 



THE "HORSE-DEER" OF SHANSI 221 

the cooking fires underneath the hang, and the clay 
bricks retain their temperature for several hours. 

At best the north China natives lead a cheerless ex- 
istence in winter. The house is not a home. Dark, 
cold, dirty, it is merely a place in which to eat and sleep. 
There is no home-making instinct in the Chinese wife, 
for a centuries' old social system, based on the Con- 
fucian ethics, has smothered every thought of the priv- 
ileges of womanhood. Her place is to cook, sew, and 
bear children; to reflect only the thoughts of her lord 
and master — to have none of her own. 

Wu-tai-hai was typical of villages of its class in all 
north China; mud huts, each with a tiny courtyard, 
built end to end in a corner of the hillside. A few acres 
of ground in the valley bottom and on the mountain 
side capable of cultivation yield enough wheat, corn, 
turnips, cabbages, and potatoes to give the natives food. 
Their life is one of work with few pleasures, and yet 
they are content because they know nothing else. 

Imagine, then, what it meant when we suddenly in- 
jected ourselves into their midst. We had come from 
a world beyond the mountains — a world of which they 
had sometimes heard, but which was as unreal to them 
as that of another planet. Europe and America were 
merely names. A few had learned from passing sol- 
diers that these strange men in that dim, far land had 
been fighting among themselves and that China, too, 
was in some vague way connected with the struggle. 

But it had not affected them in their tiny rock-bound 
village. Their world was encompassed within the val- 



222 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

ley walls or, in its uttermost limits, extended to Kwei- 
hua-cheng, forty miles away. They knew, even, that 
a "fire carriage" running on two rails of steel came 
regularly to Feng-chen, four days' travel to the east, 
but few of them had ever seen it. So it was almost 
as unreal as stories of the war and aeroplanes and 
automobiles. 

All the village gathered at the "American Lega- 
tion" while we unpacked our carts. They gazed in 
silent awe at our guns and cameras and sleeping bags, 
but the trays of specimens brought forth an active re- 
sponse. Here was something that was a part of their 
own life — something they could understand. Mice and 
rabbits like these they had seen in their own fields ; that 
weasel was the same kind of animal which sometimes 
stole their chickens. They pointed to the rocks when 
they saw a red-legged partridge, and told us there were 
many there ; also pheasants. 

Why we wanted the skins they could not understand, 
of course. I told them that we would take them far 
away across the ocean to America and put them in a 
great house as large as that hill across the valley; but 
they smilingly shook their heads. The ocean meant 
nothing to them, and as for a house as large as a hill — 
well, there never could be such a place. They were per- 
fectly sure of that. 

We had come to Wu-tai-hai to hunt wapiti — ma-lu 
(horse-deer) the natives call them — and they assured 
us that we could find them on the mountains behind 
the village. Only last night, said one of the men, he 



THE "HORSE-DEER" OF SHANSI 223 

had seen four standing on the hillside. Two had ant- 
lers as long as that stick, but they were no good now 
— the horns were hard — we should have come in the 
spring when they were soft. Then each pair was worth 
$150, at least, and big ones even more. The doctors 
make wonderful medicine from the horns — only a lit- 
tle of it would cure any disease no matter how bad it 
was. They themselves could not get the ma-lu, for the 
soldiers had long since taken away all their guns, but 
they would show us where they were. 

It was pleasant to hear all this, for we wanted some 
of those wapiti very badly, indeed. It is one of the 
links in the chain of evidence connecting the animals 
of the Old World and the New — the problem which 
makes Asia the most fascinating hunting ground of all 
the earth. 

When the early settlers first penetrated the forests 
of America they found the great deer which the In- 
dians called "wapiti." It was supposed for many years 
that it inhabited only America, but not long ago similar 
deer were discovered in China, Manchuria, Korea, Mon- 
golia, Siberia, and Turkestan, where undoubtedly the 
American species originated. Its white discoverers er- 
roneously named the animal "elk," but as this title 
properly belongs to the European "moose," sportsmen 
have adopted the Indian name "wapiti" to avoid con- 
fusion. Of course, changed environment developed 
different "species" in all the animals which migrated 
from Asia either to Europe or America, but their re- 
lationships are very close, indeed. 



224 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

The particular wapiti which we hoped to get at Wu- 
tai-hai represented a species almost extinct in China. 
Because of relentless persecution when the antlers are 
growing and in the "velvet" and continual cutting of 
the forests only a few individuals remain in this remote 
corner of northern Shansi Province. These will soon 
all be killed, for the railroad is being extended to within 
a few miles of their last stronghold, and sportsmen will 
flock to the hills from the treaty ports of China. 

Our first hunt was on November first. We left camp 
by a short cut behind the village and descended to the 
bowlder- strewn bed of the creek which led into a tre- 
mendous gorge. We felt very small and helpless as 
our eyes traveled up the well-nigh vertical walls to the 
ragged edge of the chasm a thousand feet above us. 
The mightiness of it all was vaguely depressing, and 
it was with a distinct feeling of relief that we saw the 
canon widen suddenly into a gigantic amphitheater. In 
its very center, rising from a ragged granite pedestal, 
a pinnacle of rock, crowned by a tiny temple, shot into 
the air. It was three hundred feet, at least, from the 
stream bed to the summit of the spire — and what a 
colossal task it must have been to transport the build- 
ing materials for the temple up the sheer sides of rock ! 
The valley sinners must gain much merit from the dan- 
ger and effort involved in climbing there to worship. 

Farther on we passed two villages and then turned 
off to the right up a tributary valley. We were anx- 
iously looking for signs of forest, but the only possible 
cover was in a few ravines where a sparse growth of 



*>£-r 



$£■■ 







MAP OF MONGOLIA AND CHINA SHOWING ROUTE OF SECOND ASIATIC 
EXPEDITION IN BROKEN LINES 



THE "HORSE-DEER" OF SHANSI 225 

birch and poplar bushes, not more than six or eight 
feet high, grew on the north slope. Moreover, we 
could see that the valley ended in open rolling up- 
lands. 

Turning to Na-mon-gin, I said, "How much farther 
are the ma-lu?" "Here," he answered. "We have al- 
ready arrived. They are in the bushes on the moun- 
tain side." 

Caldwell and I were astounded. The idea of look- 
ing for wapiti in such a place seemed too absurd ! There 
was hardly enough cover successfully to conceal a rab- 
bit, to say nothing of an animal as large as a horse. 
Nevertheless, the hunters assured us that the ma-lu 
were there, and we began to take a new interest in the 
birch scrub. Almost immediately we saw three roe- 
buck near the rim of one of the ravines, their white 
rump-patches showing conspicuously as they bobbed 
about in the thin cover. We could have killed them 
easily, but the hunters would not let us shoot, for we 
were after larger game. 

A few moments later we separated, Harry keeping 
on up the main valley, while my hunter and I turned 
into a patch of brush directly above us. We had not 
gone fifty yards when there was a crash, a rush of feet, 
and four wapiti dashed through the bushes. The three 
cows kept straight on, but the bull stopped just on the 
crest of the ridge directly behind a thick screen of twigs. 
My rifle was sighted at the huge body dimly visible 
through the branches. In a moment I would have 
touched the trigger, but the hunter caught my arm, 



226 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

whispering frantically, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" 

Of course I knew it was a long chance, for the bullet 
almost certainly would have been deflected by the twigs, 
but those splendid antlers seemed very near and very, 
very desirable. I lowered my rifle reluctantly, and the 
bull disappeared over the hill crest whence the cows had 
gone. 

"They'll stop in the next ravine," said the hunter, 
but when we cautiously peered over the ridge the ani- 
mals were not there — nor were they in the next. At 
last we found their trail leading into the grassy uplands ; 
but the possibility of finding wapiti, these animals of 
the forests, on those treeless slopes seemed too absurd 
even to consider. Yet, the old Mongol kept straight 
on across the rolling meadow. 

Suddenly, off at the right, Harry's rifle banged three 
times in quick succession — then an interval, and two 
more shots. Ten seconds later three wapiti cows 
showed black against the sky line. They were coming 
fast and straight toward us. We flattened ourselves 
in the grass, lying as motionless as two gray bowlders, 
and a moment later another wapiti appeared behind 
the cows. As the sun glistened on his branching ant- 
lers there was no doubt that he was a bull, and a big 
one, too. 

The cows were headed to pass about two hundred 
yards above us and behind the hill crest. I could eas- 
ily have reached the summit where they would have 
been at my mercy, but lower down the big bull also was 
coming, and the hunter would not let me move. "Wait, 



THE "HORSE-DEER" OF SHANSI 5OT 

wait," he whispered, "we'll surely get him. Wait, we 
can't lose him." 

"What about that ravine?" I answered. "He'll go 
into the cover. He will never come across this open 
hillside. I'm going to shoot." 

"No, no, he won't turn there. I am sure he won't." 
The Mongol was right. The big fellow ran straight 
toward us until he came to the entrance to the val- 
ley. My heart was in my mouth as he stopped for an 
instant and looked down into the cover. Then, for 
some strange reason, he turned and came on. Three 
hundred yards away he halted suddenly, swung about, 
and looked at the ravine again as if half decided to go 
back. 

He was standing broadside, and at the crash of my 
rifle we could hear the soft thud of the bullet striking 
flesh; but without a sign of injury he ran forward and 
stopped under a swell of ground. I could see just ten 
inches of his back and the magnificent head. It was a 
small target at three hundred yards, and I missed him 
twice. With the greatest care I held the little ivory 
bead well down on that thin brown line, but the bullet 
only creased his back. It was no use — I simply could 
not hit him. Running up the hill a few feet, I had his 
whole body exposed, and the first shot put him down 
for good. 

With a whoop of joy my old Mongol dashed down 
the steep slope. I had never seen him excited while 
we were hunting sheep, but now he was wild with de- 
light. Before he had quieted we saw Harry coming 



228 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

over the hill where the wapiti had first appeared. He 
told us that he had knocked the bull down at long range 
and had expected to find him dead until he heard me 
shooting. We found where his bullet had struck the 
wapiti in the shoulder, yet the animal was running as 
though untouched. 

I examined the bull with the greatest interest, for 
it was the first Asiatic wapiti of this species that I had 
ever seen. Its splendid antlers carried eleven points 
but they were not as massive in the beam or as sharply 
bont backward at the tips as are those of the American 
elk. Because of its richer coloration, however, it was 
decidedly handsomer than any of the American ani- 
mals. 

But the really extraordinary thing was to find the 
wapiti there at all. It seemed as incongruous as the 
first automobile that I saw upon the Gobi Desert, for 
in every other part of the world the animal is a resi- 
dent of the park-like openings in the forests. Here not 
a twig or bush was in sight, only the rolling, grass- 
covered uplands. Undoubtedly these mountains had 
been wooded many years ago, and as the trees were cut 
away, the animals had no alternative except to die or 
adapt themselves to almost plains conditions. The 
sparse birch scrub in the ravines still afforded them 
limited protection during the day, but they could feed 
only at night. It was a case of rapid adaptation to 
changed environment such as I have seen nowhere else 
in all the world. 

The wapiti, of course, owed their continued exist- 



THE "HORSE-DEER" OF SHANSI 229 

ence to the fact that the Chinese villagers of the valley 
had no firearms; otherwise, when the growing antlers 
set a price upon their heads, they would all have been 
exterminated within a year or two. 



CHAPTER XVII 

WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 

After the first day we left the "American Legation" 
and moved camp to one of two villages at the upper 
end of the valley about a mile nearer the hunting 
grounds. There were only half a dozen huts, but they 
were somewhat superior to those of Wu-tai-hai, and we 
were able to make ourselves fairly comfortable. The 
usual threshing floor of hard clay adjoined each house, 
and all day we could hear the steady beat, beat, beat, 
of the flails pounding out the wheat. 

The grain was usually freed from chaff by the sim- 
ple process of throwing it into the air when a brisk 
wind was blowing, but we saw several hand winnowing 
machines which were exceedingly ingenious and very 
effective. The wheat was ground between two circular 
stones operated by a blindfolded donkey which plodded 
round and round tied to a shaft. Of course, had the 
animal been able to see he would not have walked con- 
tinuously in a circle without giving trouble to his master. 

Behind our new house the cliffs rose in sheer walls 
for hundreds of feet, and red-legged partridges, or 
chuckars, were always calling from some ledge or 
bowlder. We could have excellent shooting at almost 
any hour of the day and often picked up pheasants, 

230 



WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 231 

bearded partridges, and rabbits in the tiny fields across 
the stream. Besides the wapiti and roebuck, goral were 
plentiful on the cliffs and there were a few sheep in 
the lower valley. Altogether it was a veritable game 
paradise, but one which I fear will last only a few years 
longer. 

We found that the wapiti were not as easy to kill as 
the first day's hunt had given us reason to believe. The 
mountains, separated by deep ravines, were so high and 
precipitous that if the deer became alarmed and crossed 
a valley it meant a climb of an hour or more to reach 
the crest of the new ridge. It was killing work, and 
we returned to camp every night utterly exhausted. 

The concentration of animal life in these scrub-filled 
gorges was really extraordinary, and I hope that a 
"game hog" never finds that valley. Probably in no 
other part of China can one see as many roebuck in 
a space so limited. It is due, of course, to the unusual 
conditions. Instead of being scattered over a large 
area, as is usual in the forest where there is an abun- 
dance of cover, the animals are confined to the few ra- 
vines in which brush remains. The surrounding open 
hills isolate them almost as effectively as though they 
were encircled by water; when driven from one patch 
of cover they can only run to the next valley. 

The facility with which the roebuck and wapiti had 
adapted themselves to utterly new conditions was a con- 
tinual marvel to me, and I never lost the feeling of sur- 
prise when I saw the animals on the open hillside or 
running across the rolling, treeless uplands. Had an 






ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

elephant or a rhinoceros suddenly appeared in place 
of a deer, it would not have seemed more incongruous. 

After we had killed the first wapiti we did not fire 
a shot for two days, even though roebuck were all about 
us and we wanted a series for the Museum. This spe- 
cies, Capreolus bedfordi, is smaller both in body and in 
antlers than the one we obtained in Mongolia and dif- 
fers decidedly, in coloration. 

On the second hunt I, alone, saw forty-five roebuck, 
and Harry, who was far to the north of me, counted 
thirty-one. The third day we were together and put 
out at least half as many. During that time we saw 
two wapiti, but did not get a shot at either. Both of 
us were becoming decidedly tired of passing specimens 
which we wanted badly and decided to go for roebuck 
regardless of the possibility of frightening wapiti by 
the shooting. Na-mon-gin and the other hunters were 
disgusted with our decision, for they were only inter- 
ested in the larger game. For the first two drives they 
worked only half-heartedly, and although seventeen 
deer were put out of one ravine, they escaped without 
giving us a shot. 

Harry and I held a council of war with the natives 
and impressed upon them the fact that we were intend- 
ing to hunt roebuck that day regardless of their per- 
sonal wishes. They realized that we were not to be 
dissuaded and prepared to drive the next patch of cover 
in a really businesslike manner. 

Na-mon-gin took me to a position on the edge of a 
projecting rock to await the natives. As they ap- 



WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 233 

peared on the rim of the ravine we saw five roe deer 
move in the bushes where they had been asleep. Four 
of them broke back through the line of beaters, but 
one fine buck came straight toward us. He ran up the 
slope and crossed a rock-saddle almost beneath me, but 
I did not fire until he was well away on the opposite 
hillside ; then he plunged forward in his tracks, dead. 

Without moving from our position we sent the men 
over the crest of the mountain to drive the ravines on 
the other side. The old Mongol and I stretched out 
upon the rock and smoked for half an hour, while I 
tried to tell him in my best Chinese — which is very bad 
— the story of a bear hunt in Alaska. I had just killed 
the bear, in my narrative, when we saw five roebuck 
appear on the sky line. They trotted straight toward 
Harry, and in a moment we heard two shots in quick 
succession. I knew that meant at least one more deer. 

Five minutes later we made out a roebuck rounding 
the base of the spur on which we sat. It seemed no 
larger than a brown rabbit at that distance, but the 
animal was running directly up the bottom of the ra- 
vine which we commanded. It was a buck carrying 
splendid antlers and we watched him come steadily on 
until he was almost below us. 

Na-mon-gin whispered, "Don't shoot until he stops"; 
but it seemed that the animal would cross the ridge 
without a pause. He was almost at the summit when 
he halted for an instant, facing directly away from 
us. I fired, and the buck leaped backward shot through 
the neck. 



234 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Na-mon-gin was in high good humor, for I had killed 
two deer with two shots. Harry brought a splendid 
doe which he had bored neatly through the body as it 
dashed at full speed across the valley below him. Even 
the old Mongol had to admit that the wapiti could not 
have been greatly disturbed by the shooting, and all the 
men were as pleased as children. There was meat 
enough for all our boys as well as for the beaters. 

Our next day's hunt was for goral on the precipitous 
cliffs north of camp. Goral belong to a most interest- 
ing group of mammals known as the "goat-antelopes" 
because of the intermediate position which they occupy 
between the true antelope and the goats. The takin, 
serow, and goral are the Asiatic members of this 
sub-family, the Rupicaprinw, which is represented in 
America by the so-called Rocky Mountain goat and in 
Europe by the chamois. The goral might be called the 
Asiatic chamois, for its habits closely resemble those 
of its European relative. 

I had killed twenty-five goral in Yiin-nan on the first 
Asiatic expedition and, therefore, was not particularly 
keen, from the sporting standpoint, about shooting oth- 
ers. But we did need several specimens, since the north 
China goral represents a different species, Nemor- 
hcedus caudatuSj from the one we had obtained in Yiin- 
nan, which is N. griseus. 

Moreover, Harry was exceedingly anxious to get sev- 
eral of the animals for he had not been very successful 
with them. He had shot one at Wu-shi-tu, while we 
were hunting sheep, and after wounding two others at 



WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 235 

Wu-tai-hai had begun to learn how hard they are to 

km. 

The thousand-foot climb up the almost perpendicular 
cliff was one of the most difficult bits of going which we 
encountered anywhere in the mountains, and I was 
ready for a rest in the sun when we reached the sum- 
mit. Although my beaters were not successful in put- 
ting out a goral, we heard Harry shoot once away to 
the right; and half an hour later I saw him through 
my binoculars accompanied by one of his men who car- 
ried a goral on his shoulders. 

On the way Harry disturbed a goral which ran down 
the sheer wall opposite to us at full speed, bouncing 
from rock to rock as though made of India rubber. It 
was almost inconceivable that anything except a bird 
could move along the face of that cliff, and yet the 
goral ran apparently as easily as though it had been on 
level ground. I missed it beautifully and the animal 
disappeared into a cave among the rocks. Although 
I sent two bullets into the hole, hoping to drive out the 
beast, it would not move. Two beaters made their way 
from above to within thirty feet of the hiding place and 
sent down a shower of dirt and stones, but still there 
was no sign of action. Then another native climbed up 
from below at the risk of his life, and just as he gained 
the ledge which led to the cave the goral leaped out. 
The Mongol yelled with fright, for the animal nearly 
shoved him off the rocks and dashed into the bottom of 
the ravine where it took refuge in another cave. 

I would not have taken that thousand-foot climb 



236 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

again for all the gorals in China, but Harry started 
down at once. The animal again remained in its cave 
until a beater was opposite the entrance and then shot 
out like an arrow almost into Harry's face. He was 
so startled that he missed it twice. 

I decided to abandon goral hunting for that day. 
Na-mon-gin took me over the summit of the ridge with 
two beaters and we found roebuck at once. I returned 
to camp with two bucks and a doe. In the lower valley 
I met Harry carrying a shotgun and accompanied by 
a boy strung about with pheasants and chuckars. After 
losing the goral he had toiled up the mountain again 
but had found only two roebuck, one of which he shot. 

Our second wapiti was killed on November seventh. 
It was a raw day with an icy wind blowing across the 
ridges where we lay for half an hour while the beaters 
bungled a drive for twelve roebuck which had gone into 
a scrub-filled ravine. The animals eluded us by run- 
ning across a hilltop which should have been blocked 
by a native, and I got only one shot at a fox. The re- 
port of my rifle disturbed eight wapiti which the beat- 
ers discovered as they crossed the uplands in the di- 
rection of another patch of cover a mile away. 

It was a long, cold walk over the hills against the bit- 
ing wind, and after driving one ravine unsuccessfully 
Harry descended to the bottom of a wide valley, while 
I continued parallel with him on the summit of the 
ridge. Three roebuck suddenly jumped from a shal- 
low ravine in front of me, and one of them, a splendid 
buck, stopped behind a bush. It was too great a 



WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 237 

temptation, so I fired; but the bullet went to pieces in 
the twigs and never reached its mark. Harry saw the 
deer go over the hill and ran around the base of a rocky 
shoulder just in time to intercept three wapiti which 
my shot had started down the ravine. He dropped be- 
hind a bowlder and let a cow and a calf pass within a 
few yards of him, for he saw the antlers of a bull rock- 
ing along just behind a tiny ridge. As the animal came 
into view he sent a bullet into his shoulder, and a sec- 
ond ball a few inches behind the first. The elk went 
down but got to his feet again, and Harry put him 
under for good with a third shot in the hip. 

Looking up he saw another bull, alone, emerging 
from a patch of cover on the summit of the opposite 
slope four hundred yards away. He fired point-blank, 
but the range was a bit too long and his bullet kicked 
up a cloud of snow under the animal's belly. 

I was entirely out of the race on the summit of the 
hill, for the nearest wapiti was fully eight hundred yards 
away. Harry's bull was somewhat smaller than the 
first one we had killed, but had an even more beautiful 
coat. 

We were pretty well exhausted from the week's 
strenuous climbing and spent Sunday resting and look- 
ing after the small mammal work which our Chinese 
taxidermists had been carrying on under my direc- 
tion. 

Monday morning we were on the hunting grounds 
shortly after sunrise. At the first drive a beautiful 
buck roe deer ran out of a ravine into the main valley 



238 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

where I was stationed. Suddenly he caught sight of 
us where we sat under a rock and stopped with head 
thrown up and one foot raised. I shall never forget 
the beautiful picture which he made standing there 
against the background of snow with the sun glancing 
on his antlers. Before I could shoot he was off at top 
speed bounding over the bushes parallel to us. My 
first shot just creased his back, but the second caught 
him squarely in the shoulder, while he was in mid-air, 
turning him over in a complete somersault. 

A few moments later we saw the two beaters on the 
hill run toward each other excitedly and felt sure they 
had seen something besides roebuck. When they 
reached us they reported that seven wapiti had run out 
directly between them and over the ridge. 

The climb to the top of the mountain was an ordeal. 
It was the highest ridge on that side of the valley and 
every time we reached what appeared to be the crest, 
another and higher summit loomed above us. We fol- 
lowed the tracks of the animals into a series of ravines 
which ran down on the opposite side of the mountain 
and tried a drive. It was too large a territory for 
our four beaters, and the animals escaped unobserved 
up one of the valleys. Na-mon-gin and I sat on the 
hillside for an hour in the icy wind. We were both 
shaking with cold and I doubt if I could have hit a 
wapiti if it had stopped fifty feet away. 

Harry saw a young elk go into a mass of birch scrub 
in the bottom of the valley, and when he descended to 
drive it out, his hunter discovered a huge bull walking 



WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 239 

slowly up a ravine not two hundred yards from me but 
under cover of the hill and beyond my sight. 

A little before dark we started home by way of a deep 
ravine which extended out to the main valley. We 
were talking in a low tone and I was smoking a cigarette 
— my rifle slung over my shoulder. Suddenly Harry 
exclaimed, "Great Scott, Roy! There's a ma-lu" 

On the instant his rifle banged, and I looked up just 
in time to see a bull wapiti stop on an open slope of the 
ravine about ninety yards away. Before I had un- 
slung my rifle Harry fired again, but he could not see 
the notch in his rear sight and both bullets went high. 

Through the peep sight in my Mannlicher the animal 
was perfectly visible, and when I fired, the bull dropped 
like lead, rolling over and over down the hill. He at- 
tempted to get to his feet but was unable to stand, and 
I put him down for good with a second shot. It all 
happened so quickly that we could hardly realize that 
a day of disappointment had ended in success. 

On our way back to camp Harry and I decided that 
this would end our hunt, for we had three fine bulls, 
and it was evident that only a very few wapiti remained. 
The species is doomed to early extinction for, with the 
advent of the railroad, the last stand which the elk 
have made by means of their extraordinary adaptation 
to changed conditions will soon become easily accessible 
to foreign sportsmen. We at least could keep our con- 
sciences clear and not hasten the inevitable day by 
undue slaughter. In western China other species of 
wapiti are found in greater numbers, but there can be 



240 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

only one end to the persecution to which they are sub- 
jected during the season when they are least able to 
protect themselves. 

It is too much to hope that China will make effective 
game laws before the most interesting and important 
forms of her wild life have disappeared, but we can do 
our best to preserve in museums for future generations 
records of the splendid animals of the present. Not 
only are they a part of Chinese history, but they belong 
to all the world, for they furnish some of the evidence 
from which it is possible to write the fascinating story 
of those dim, dark ages when man first came upon the 
earth. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN 

Shansi Province is famous for wild boar among the 
sportsmen of China. In the central part there are low 
mountains and deep ravines thickly forested with a 
scrub growth of pine and oak. The acorns are a fa- 
vorite food of the pigs, and the pigs are a favorite food 
of the Chinese — and of foreigners, too, for that matter. 
No domestic pork that I have ever tasted can excel a 
young acorn- fed wild pig! Even a full-grown sow is 
delicious, but beware of an old boar; not only is he 
tough beyond description, but his flesh is so "strong'' 
that it annoys me even to see it cooked. I tried to eat 
some boar meat, once upon a time — that is why I feel 
so deeply about it. 

It is useless to hunt wild pig until the leaves are 
off the trees, for your only hope is to find them feed- 
ing on the hillsides in the morning or early evening. 
Then they will often come into the open or the thin 
forests, and you can have a fair shot across a ravine or 
from the summit of a hill. If they are in the brush it 
is well-nigh impossible to see them at all. A wild boar 
is very clever at eluding his pursuers, and for his size 
can carry off more lead and requires more killing than 
any other animal of which I know. Therefore, you 

241 



242 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

may be sure of a decidedly interesting hunt. On the 
other hand, an unsuspecting pig is easy to stalk, for his 
eyesight is not good ; his sense of smell is not much bet- 
ter; and he depends largely upon hearing to protect 
him from enemies. 

In Tientsin and Shanghai there are several sports- 
men who year after year go to try for record tusks — 
they are the real authorities on wild boar hunting. My 
own experience has been limited to perhaps a dozen 
pigs killed in Korea, Mongolia, Celebes, and various 
parts of China. 

Harry Caldwell and I returned from our bighorn 
sheep and wapiti hunt on November 19. He was 
anxious to go with me for wild boar, but business re- 
quired his presence in Foochow, and Everett Smith, 
who had been my companion on a trip to the Eastern 
Tombs the previous spring, volunteered to accompany 
me. We left on November 28 by the Peking-Han- 
kow Railroad for Ping-ting-cho, arriving the follow- 
ing afternoon at two o'clock. There we obtained 
donkeys for pack and riding animals. All the traffic 
in this part of Shansi is by mules or donkeys. As a 
result the inns are small, with none of the spacious 
courtyards which we had found in the north of the prov- 
ince. They were not particularly dirty, but the open 
coal fires which burned in every kitchen sometimes 
drove us outside for a breath of untainted air. How 
it is possible for human beings to exist in rooms so 
filled with coal gas is beyond my knowledge. Of 
course, death from gas poisoning is not unusual, but I 



WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN 243 

suppose the natives have become somewhat immune to 
its effects. 

Our destination was a tiny village in the mountains 
about eight miles beyond Ho-shun, a city of consid- 
erable size in the very center of the province. Tai- 
yuan-fu, the capital, at the end of the railway, is a 
famous place for pigs; but they have been hunted so 
persistently in recent years that few remain within less 
than two or three days' journey from the city. 

It was a three days' trip from the railroad to Ho- 
shun, and there was little of interest to distinguish the 
road from any other in north China. It is always 
monotonous to travel with pack animals or carts, for 
they go so slowly that you can make only two or three 
miles an hour, at best. If there happens to be shoot- 
ing along the way, as there is in most parts of Shansi, 
it helps to pass the time. We picked up a few pheas- 
ants, some chuckars, and a dozen pigeons, but did not 
stop to do any real hunting until we entered a wooded 
valley and established ourselves in a fairly comfortable 
Chinese hut at the little village of Kao-chia-chuang. On 
the way in we met a party of Christian Brother mis- 
sionaries who had been hunting in the vicinity for five 
days. They had seen ten or twelve pigs and had killed 
a splendid boar weighing about three hundred and fifty 
pounds as w T ell as two roebuck. 

The mountains near the village had been so thor- 
oughly hunted that there was little chance of finding 
pigs, but nevertheless we decided to stay for a day or 
two. I killed a two-year-old roebuck on the first after- 



244 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

noon; and the next morning, while Smith and I were 
resting on a mountain trail, one of our men saw an 
enormous wild boar trot across an open ridge and dis- 
appear into a heavily forested ravine. I selected a post 
on a projecting shoulder, while one Chinese went with 
Smith to pick up the trail of the pig. There were so 
many avenues of escape open to the boar that I had to 
remain where it was possible to watch a large expanse 
of country. 

Smith had not yet reached the bottom of the ravine 
when the native who had remained with me suddenly 
began to gesticulate wildly and to point to a wooded 
slope directly in front of us. He hopped about like 
a man who has suddenly lost his mind and succeeded in 
keeping in front of me so that I could see nothing but 
his waving arms and writhing body. Finally seizing 
him by the collar, I threw him to the ground so vio- 
lently that he realized his place was behind me. Then 
I saw the pig running along a narrow trail, silhouetted 
against the snow which lay thinly on the shaded side of 
the hill. 

He was easily three hundred and fifty yards away 
and I had little hope of hitting him, but I selected an 
open patch beyond a bit of cover and fired as he 
emerged. The boar squealed and plunged forward 
into the bushes. A moment later he reappeared, zig- 
zagging his way up the slope and only visible through 
the trees when he crossed a patch of snow. I emptied 
the magazine of my rifle in a futile bombardment, but 
the boar crossed the summit and disappeared. 



WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN 245 

We picked up his bloody trail and for two hours 
followed it through a tangled mass of scrub and thorns. 
It seemed certain that we must find him at any mo- 
ment, for great red blotches stained the snow wherever 
he stopped to rest. At last the trail led us across an 
open ridge, and the snow and blood suddenly ceased. 
We could not follow his footprints in the thick grass 
and abandoned the chase just before dark. 

Two more days of unsuccessful hunting convinced 
us that the missionaries had driven the pigs to other 
cover. There was a region twelve miles away to which 
they might have gone, and we shifted camp to a vil- 
lage named Tziloa a mile or more from the scrub-cov- 
ered hills which we wished to investigate. 

The natives of this part of the country were in no 
sense hunters. They were farmers who, now that the 
crops were harvested, had plenty of leisure time and 
were glad to roam the hills with us. Although their 
eyesight was remarkable and they were able to see a 
pig twice as far as we could, they had no conception of 
stalking the game or of how to hunt it. When we be- 
gan to shoot, instead of watching the pigs, they were 
always so anxious to obtain the empty cartridge cases 
that a wild scramble ensued after every shot. They 
were like street boys fighting for a penny. It was a 
serious handicap for successful hunting, and they kept 
me in such a state of irritation that I never shot so badly 
in all my life. 

We found pigs at Tziloa immediately. The carts 
went by road to the village, while Smith and I, with two 



246 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Chinese, crossed the mountains. On the summit of a 
ridge not far from the village we met eight native hunt- 
ers. Two of them had ancient muzzle-loading guns 
but the others only carried staves. Evidently their 
method of hunting was to surround the pigs and drive 
them close up to the men with firearms. 

We persuaded one of the Chinese, a boy of eighteen, 
with cross-eyes and a funny, dried-up little face, to 
accompany us, for our two guides wished to return 
that night to Kao-chia-chuang. He led us down a spur 
which projected northward from the main ridge, and 
in ten minutes we discovered five pigs on the opposite 
side of a deep ravine. The sun lay warmly on the 
slope, and the animals were lazily rooting in the oak 
scrub. They were a happy family — a boar, a sow, and 
three half -grown piglets. 

We slipped quietly among the trees until we were 
directly opposite to them and not more than two hun- 
dred yards away. The boar and the sow had disap- 
peared behind a rocky corner, and the others were 
slowly following so that the opportunity for a shot 
would soon be lost. Telling Smith to take the one on 
the left, I covered another which stood half facing me. 
At the roar of my rifle the ravine was filled with wild 
squeals, and the pig rolled down the hill bringing up 
against a tree. The boar rushed from behind the rock, 
and I fired quickly as he stood broadside on. He 
plunged out of sight, and the gorge was still! 

Smith had missed his pig and was very much dis- 
gusted. The three Chinese threw themselves down the 



WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN 247 

slope, slipping and rolling over logs and stones, and 
were up the opposite hill before we reached the bottom 
of the ravine. They found the pig which I had killed 
and a blood-splashed trail leading around the hill where 
the boar had disappeared. 

My pig was a splendid male in the rich red-brown 
coat of adolescence. The bullet had struck him "amid- 
ships" and shattered the hip on the opposite side. From 
the blood on the trail we decided that I had shot the 
big boar through the center of the body about ten inches 
behind the forelegs. 

We had learned by experience how much killing a 
full-grown pig required, and had no illusions about 
rinding him dead a few yards away, even though both 
sides of his path were blotched with red at every step. 
Therefore, while the Chinese followed the trail, Smith 
and I sprinted across the next ridge into a thickly 
forested ravine to head off the boar. 

We took stations several yards apart, and suddenly 
I heard Smith's rifle bang six times in quick succes- 
sion. The Chinese had disturbed the pig from a patch 
of cover and it had climbed the opposite hill slope in 
full view of Smith, who apparently had missed it every 
time. Missing a boar dodging about among the bushes 
is not such a difficult thing to do, and although poor 
Smith was too disgusted even to talk about it, I had a 
good deal of sympathy for him. 

We had little hope of getting the animal when we 
climbed to the summit of the ridge and saw the tangle 
of brush into which it had disappeared, but neverthe- 



US ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

less we followed the trail which was still showing blood. 
I was in front and was just letting myself down a snow- 
covered bowlder, when far below me I saw a huge sow 
and a young pig walking slowly through the trees. I 
turned quickly, lost my balance, and slipped feet first 
over the rock into a mass of thorns and scrub. A loco- 
motive could not have made more noise, and I extri- 
cated myself just in time to see the two pigs disappear 
into a grove of pines. I was bleeding from a dozen 
scratches, but I climbed to the summit of the ridge and 
dashed forward hoping to cut them off if they crossed 
below me. They did not appear, and we tried to drive 
them out from the cover into which they had made their 
way ; but we never saw them again. It was already be- 
ginning to grow dark and too late to pick up the trail 
of the wounded boar, so we had to call it a day and re- 
turn to the village. 

One of our men carried my shotgun and we killed 
half a dozen pheasants on the way back to camp. The 
birds had come into the open to feed, and small flocks 
were scattered along the valley every few hundred 
yards. We saw about one hundred and fifty in less 
than an hour, besides a few chuckars. 

I have never visited any part of China where pheas- 
ants were so plentiful as in this region. Had we been 
hunting birds we could have killed a hundred or more 
without the slightest difficulty during the time we were 
looking for pigs. We could not shoot, however, without 
the certainty of disturbing big game and, consequently, 
we only killed pheasants when on the way back to camp. 



WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN 249 

During the day the birds kept well up toward th* sum- 
mits of the ridges and only left the cover in the morning 
and evening. 

Our second hunt was very amusing, as well as success- 
ful. We met the same party of Chinese hunters early in 
the morning, and agreed to divide the meat of all the 
pigs we killed during the day if they would join forces 
with us. Among them was a tall, fine-looking young 
fellow, evidently the leader, who was a real hunter — the 
only one we found in the entire region. He knew in- 
stinctively where the pigs were, what they would do, and 
how to get them. 

He led us without a halt along the summit of the 
mountain into a ravine and up a long slope to the crest 
of a knifelike ridge. Then he suddenly dropped in the 
grass and pointed across a canon to a bare hillside. Two 
pigs were there in plain sight — one a very large sow. 
They were fully three hundred yards away and on the 
edge of a bushy patch toward which they were feeding 
slowly. Smith left me to hurry to the bottom of the 
canon where he could have a shot at close range if either 
one went down the hill, while I waited behind a stone. 
Before he was halfway down the slope the sow moved 
toward the patch of cover into which the smaller pig had 
already disappeared. It must be then, if I was to have 
a shot at all. I fired rather hurriedly and registered a 
clean miss. Both pigs, instead of staying in the cover 
where they would have been safe, dashed down the open 
slope toward the bottom of the canon. At my first shot 
all eight of the Chinese had leaped for the empty rifle 



250 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

shell and were rolling about like a pack of dogs after a 
bone. One of them struck my leg just as I fired the 
second time and the bullet went into the air ; I delivered 
a broadside of my choicest Chinese oaths and the man 
drew off. I sent three shots after the fleeing sow, but 
she disappeared unhurt. 

One shell remained in my rifle, and I saw the other 
pig running like a scared rabbit in the very bottom of 
the canon. It was so far away that I could barely see 
the animal through my sights, but when I fired it turned 
a complete somersault and lay still ; the bullet had caught 
it squarely in the head. 

Meanwhile, Smith was having a lively time with the 
old sow. He had swung around a corner of rock just in 
time to meet the pig coming at full speed from the other 
side not six yards away. He tried to check himself, 
slipped, and sat down suddenly but managed to fire 
once, breaking the animal's left foreleg. It disappeared 
into the brush with Smith after it. 

He began an intermittent bombardment which lasted 
half an hour. Bang, bang, bang — then silence. Bang, 
bang, bang — silence again. I wondered what it all 
meant and finally ran down the bottom of the valley 
until I saw Smith opposite to me just under the rim of 
the ravine. He was tearing madly through the brush 
not far behind the sow. As the animal appeared for an 
instant on the summit of a rise he dropped on one knee 
and fired twice. Then I saw him race over the hill, leap- 
ing the bushes like a roebuck. Once he rolled ten feet 
into a mass of thorn scrub, but he was up again in an 



WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN 251 

instant, hurdling the brush and fallen logs, his eye on 
the pig. 

It was screamingly funny and I was helpless with 
laughter. "Go it, Smith," I yelled. "Run him down. 
Catch him in your hands." He had no breath to waste 
in a reply, for just then he leaped a fallen log and I 
saw the sow charge him viciously. The animal had been 
lying under a tree, almost done, but still had life enough 
to damage Smith badly if it had reached him. As the 
man landed on his feet, he fired again at the pig which 
was almost on him. The bullet caught the brute in the 
shoulder at the base of the neck and rolled it over, but 
it struggled to its feet and ran uncertainly a few steps ; 
then it dropped in a little gully. 

By the time I had begun to climb the hill Smith 
shouted that the pig might charge again, and I kept my 
rifle ready, but the animal was "all in." I circled warily 
and, creeping up from behind, drove my hunting knife 
into its heart; even then it struggled to get at me before 
it rolled over dead. 

Smith was streaming blood from a score of scratches, 
and his clothes were in ribbons, but his face was radiant. 
"I'd have chased the blasted pig clear to Peking," he 
said. "All my shells are gone, but I wasn't going to let 
him get away. If I hadn't kept that last cartridge he'd 
have caught me, surely." 

It was fine enthusiasm and, if ever a man deserved his 
game, Smith deserved that sow. The animal had been 
shot in half a dozen places ; two legs were broken, and 
at least three of the bullets had reached vital spots. 



252 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Still the brute kept on. Any one who thinks pigs are 
easy to kill ought to try the ones in Shansi! The sow 
weighed well over three hundred pounds, and it required 
six men to carry the two pigs into camp. We got no 
more, although we saw two others, but still we felt 
that the day had not been ill spent. As long as I live 
I shall never forget Smith's hurdle race after that old 
sow. 

Although I killed two roebuck, the next day I re- 
turned to camp with rage in my heart. Smith and I had 
separated late in the afternoon, and I was hunting with 
an old Chinese when we discovered three pigs — a huge 
boar, a sow, and a shote — crossing an open hill. Crawl- 
ing on my face, I reached a rock not seventy yards from 
the animals. At the first shot the boar pitched over the 
bluff into a tangle of thorns, squealing wildly. My 
second bullet broke the shoulder of the sow, and I had 
a mad chase through a patch of scrub, but finally lost 
her. 

When I returned to get the big boar I discovered my 
Chinese squatted on his haunches in the ravine. He 
blandly informed me that the pig could not be found. I 
spent the half hour of remaining daylight burrowing in 
the thorn scrub without success. I learned later that 
the native had concealed the dead pig under a mass of 
stones and that during the night he and his confreres 
had carried it away. Moreover, after we left, they also 
got the sow which I had wounded. Although at the time 
I did not suspect the man's perfidy, nevertheless it was 
apparent that he had not kept his eyes on the boar as I 



WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN 253 

had told him to do ; otherwise the pig could not possibly 
have escaped. 

We had one more day of hunting because Smith had 
obtained two weeks' leave. The next morning dawned 
dark and cloudy with spurts of hail — just the sort of 
weather in which animals prefer to stay comfortably 
snuggled under a bush in the thickest cover. Conse- 
quently we saw nothing all day except one roebuck, 
which I killed. It was running at full speed when I 
fired, and it disappeared over the crest of a hill without 
a sign of injury. Smith was waiting on the other side, 
and I wondered why he did not shoot, until we reached 
the summit and discovered the deer lying dead in the 
grass. Smith had seen the buck plunge over the ridge, 
and just as he was about to fire, it collapsed. 

We found that my bullet had completely smashed the 
heart, yet the animal had run more than one hundred 
yards. As it fell, one of its antlers had been knocked 
off and the other was so loose that it dropped in my hand 
when I lifted the head. This was on December 11. 
The other bucks which I had killed still wore their ant- 
lers, but probably they would all have been shed before 
Christmas. The growth takes place during the winter, 
and the velvet is all off the new antlers by the following 
May. 

On the way back to camp we saw a huge boar stand- 
ing on an open hillside. Smith and I fired hurriedly 
and both missed a perfectly easy shot. With one of the 
Chinese I circled the ridge, while Smith took up the 
animal's trail. We arrived on the edge of a deep ravine 



254 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

just as the boar appeared in the very bottom. I fired 
as it rushed through the bushes, and the pig squealed 
but never hesitated. The second shot struck behind it, 
but at the third it squealed again and dived into a patch 
of cover. When we reached the spot we found a great 
pool of blood and bits of entrails — but no pig. A broad 
red patch led through the snow, and we followed, ex- 
pecting at every step to find the animal dead. Instead, 
the track carried us down the hill, up the bottom of a 
ravine, and onto a hill bare of snow but thickly covered 
with oak scrub. 

While Smith and I circled ahead to intercept the pig, 
the Chinese followed the trail. It was almost dark when 
we went back to the men, who announced that the blood 
had ceased and that they had lost the track. It seemed 
incredible; but they had so trampled the trail where it 
left the snow that we could not find it again in the 
gloom. 

Then Smith and I suspected what we eventually 
found to be true, viz., that the men had discovered the 
dead pig and had purposely led us astray. We had no 
proof, however, and they denied the charge so violently 
that we began to think our suspicions were unfounded. 

We had to leave at daylight next morning in order to 
reach Peking before Smith's leave expired. Two days 
after we left, one of my friends arrived at Kao-chia- 
chuang, where we had first hunted, and reported that 
the Chinese had brought in all four of the pigs which we 
had wounded. One of them, probably the boar we lost 
on the last night, was an enormous animal which the 



WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN 255 

natives said weighed more than five hundred pounds. 
Of course, this could not have been true, but it probably 
did reach nearly four hundred pounds. 

What Smith and I said when we learned that the 
scoundrels had cheated us would not look well in print. 
However, it taught us several things about boar hunting 
which will prove of value in the future. The Chinese 
can sell wild pig meat for a very high price since it is 
considered to be a great delicacy. Therefore, if I wound 
a pig in the future I shall, myself, follow its trail to the 
bitter end. Moreover, I learned that, to knock over a 
wild boar and keep him down for good, one needs a 
heavy rifle. The bullet of my 6.5 mm. Mannlicher, 
which has proved to be a wonderful killer for anything 
up to and including sheep, has not weight enough be- 
hind it to stop a pig in its tracks. These animals have 
such wonderful vitality that, even though shot in a vital 
spot, they can travel an unbelievable distance. Next 
time I shall carry a rifle especially designed for pigs 
and thieving Chinese! 



CHAPTER XIX 

THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 

The sunshine of an early spring day was flooding the 
flower-filled courtyards of Duke Tsai Tse's palace in 
Peking when Dr. G. D. Wilder, Everett Smith, and I 
alighted from our car at the huge brass-bound gate. 
We came by motor instead of rickshaw, for we were on 
an official visit which had been arranged by the Ameri- 
can Minister. We would have suffered much loss of 
"face" had we come in any lesser vehicle than an auto- 
mobile, for we were to be received by a "Royal High- 
ness," an Imperial Duke and a man in whose veins 
flowed the bluest of Manchu blood. Although living in 
retirement, Duke Tsai Tse is still a powerful and a re- 
spected man. 

We were ushered through court after court into a 
large reception hall furnished in semi-foreign style but 
in excellent taste. A few moments later the duke en- 
tered, dressed in a simple gown of dark blue silk. Had 
I met him casually on the street I should have known 
he was a "personality." His high-bred features were 
those of a maker of history, of a man who has faced the 
ruin of his own ambitions; who has seen his emperor 
deposed and his dynasty shattered ; but who has lost not 
one whit of his poise or self-esteem. He carried himself 

256 



THE GREAT PARE OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 257 

with a quiet dignity, and there was a royal courtesy in 
his greeting which inspired profound respect. Had he 
been marked for death in the revolution I am sure that 
he would have received his executioners in the same calm 
way that he met us in the reception hall. He listened 
with a courteous interest while we explained the object 
of our visit. We had come, we told him, to ask permis- 
sion to collect natural history specimens in the great 
hunting park at the Tung Ling, Eastern Tombs. Here, 
and at the Hsi Ling, or Western Tombs, the Manchu 
emperors and their royal consorts sleep in splendid 
mausoleums among the fragrant pines. 

The emperors are buried at the lower end of a vast, 
walled park, more than one hundred miles in length. 
True to their reverence for the dead, the Chinese con- 
querors have never touched these sacred spots, and 
doubtless will never do so. They belong unquestion- 
ably to the Manchus, even if their dynasty has been 
overthrown by force of arms. According to custom, 
some member of the royal court is always in residence 
at the Eastern Tombs. This fact Tsai Tse gravely ex- 
plained, and said that he would commend us in a letter 
to Duke Chou, who would be glad to grant us the privi- 
leges we asked. Then, by touching his teacup to his 
lips, he indicated that our interview was ended. With 
the same courtesy he would have shown to a visiting 
diplomat he ushered us through the courtyards, while at 
each doorway we begged him to return. Such is the 
custom in China. That same afternoon a messenger 
from the duke arrived at my house in Wu Liang Taj en 



258 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Hutung bearing a letter beautifully written in Chinese 
characters. 

Everett Smith and I left next morning for the East- 
ern Tombs. We went by train to Tung-cho, twelve 
miles away, where a mafu was waiting with our ponies 
and a cart for baggage. The way to the Tung Ling 
is a delight, for along it north China country life passes 
before one in panoramic completeness. For centuries 
this road has been an imperial highway. I could imag- 
ine the gorgeous processions that had passed over it and 
the pomp and ceremony of the visits of the living em- 
perors to the resting places of the dead. 

Most vivid of all was the picture in my mind of the 
last great funeral only nine years ago. I could see the 
imperial yellow bier slowly, solemnly, borne over the 
gray Peking hills. In it lay the dead body of the Dow- 
ager Empress, Tz'u-hsi — most dreaded yet most beloved 
— the greatest empress of the last century, the woman 
who tasted of life and power through the sweetest joys 
to their bitter core. 

We spent the first night at an inn on the outskirts of 
a tiny village. It was a clean inn, too — very different 
from those in south China. The great courtyard was 
crowded with arriving carts. In the kitchen dozens of 
tired mafus were noisily •gulping huge bowls of maca- 
roni, and others, stretched upon the kang, had already 
become mere, shapeless bundles of dirty rags. After 
dinner Smith and I wandered outside the court. An 
open-air theater was in full operation a few yards from 
the inn, and all the village had gathered in the street. 



THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 259 

But we were of more interest to the audience than the 
drama itself, and in an instant a score of men and women 
had surrounded us. They were all good-natured but 
frankly curious. Finally an old man joined the crowd. 
"Why," said he, "there are two foreigners!" Immedi- 
ately the hum of voices ceased, for Age was speaking. 
"They've got foreign clothes," he exclaimed; "and what 
funny hats ! It is true that foreign hats are much big- 
ger than Chinese caps, and they cost a lot more, too! 
See that gun the tall one is carrying! He could shoot 
those pigeons over there as easily as not — all of them 
with one shot — probably he will in a minute." 

The old man continued the lecture until we strolled 
back to the inn. Undoubtedly he is still discussing us, 
for there is little to talk about in a Chinese village, ex- 
cept crops and weather and local gossip. 

We reached the Eastern Tombs in the late afternoon 
of the same day. Emerging from a rocky gateway on 
the summit of a hill, we had the whole panorama of the 
Tung Ling spread out before us. It was like a vast 
green sea where wave after wave of splendid forests 
rolled away to the blue haze of distant mountains. 

The islands in this forest-ocean were the yellow-roofed 
tombs, which gave back the sun in a thousand points of 
golden light. After the monotonous brown of the bare 
north China hills, the vivid green of the trees was as 
refreshing as finding an unknown oasis in a sandy des- 
ert. To the right was the picturesque village of Ma- 
lin-yu, the residence of Duke Chou. 

From the wide veranda of the charming temple which 



260 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

we were invited to occupy we could look across the brown 
village to the splendid park and the glistening yellow 
roofs of the imperial tombs. We found next day that 
it is a veritable paradise, a spot of exquisite beauty 
where profound artistic sentiment has been magnifi- 
cently expressed. Broad, paved avenues, bordered by 
colossal animals sculptured in snow-white marble, lead 
through the trees to imposing gates of red and gold. 
There is, too, a delightful appreciation of climax. As 
one walks up a spacious avenue, passing through gate 
after gate, each more magnificent than the last, one is 
being prepared by this cumulative splendor for the tomb 
itself. One feels everywhere the dignity of space. 
There is no smallness, no crowding. One feels the great- 
ness of the people that has done these things : a race that 
looks at life and death with a vision as broad as the skies 
themselves. 

At the Twng Ling Nature has worked hand in hand 
with man to produce a harmonious whole. Most of the 
trees about the tombs have been planted, but the work 
has been cleverly done. There is nothing glaringly 
artificial, and you feel as though you were in a well- 
groomed forest where every tree has grown just where, 
in Nature's scheme of things, it ought to be. 

Although the tombs are alike in general plan, they 
are, at the same time, as individual as were the emperors 
themselves. Each is a subtle expression of the character 
of the one who sleeps beneath the yellow roof. The 
tomb of Ch'ien-Lung, the artist emperor, lies not far 
away from that of the Empress Dowager. Stately, 



THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 261 

beautiful in its simplicity, it is an indication of his life 
and deeds. In striking contrast is the palace built by 
the Empress for her eternal dwelling. A woman of 
iron will, holding her place by force and intrigue, a lover 
of lavish display — she has expressed it all in her gor- 
geous tomb. The extravagance of its decoration and 
the wealth of gold and silver seem to declare to all the 
world her desire to be known even in death as the great- 
est of the great. It is said that her tomb cost ten million 
dollars, and I can well believe it. But a hundred years 
from now, when Ch'ien-Lung's mausoleum, like the 
painting of an old master, has grown even more beauti- 
ful by the touch of age, that of the Empress will be 
worn and tarnished. 

Charmed with the calm, the peace, the exquisite 
beauty of the spot, we spent a delightful day wandering 
among the red and gold pavilions. But fascinating as 
were the tombs, we were really concerned with the "hin- 
terland," the hunting park itself. Sixty miles to the 
north, but still within the walls, are towering mountains 
and glorious forests; these were what we had come to 
see. 

All day, behind three tiny donkeys, we followed a 
tortuous, foaming stream in the bottom of a splendid 
valley, ever going upward. At night we slept in the 
open, and next day crossed the mountain into a forest 
of oak and pine sprinkled with silver birches. Hun- 
dreds of wood-cutters passed us on the trail, each car- 
rying a single log upon his back. Before we reached 
the village of Shing Lung-shan we came into an area 



262 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

of desolation. Thousands of splendid trees were lying 
in a chaos of charred and blackened trunks. It was the 
wantonness of it all that depressed and horrified me. 

The reason was perfectly apparent. On every bit of 
open ground Manchu farmers were at work with plow 
and hoe. The land was being cleared for cultivation, 
regardless of all else. North China has very little tim- 
ber — so little, in fact, that one longs passionately to get 
away from the bare hills. Yet in this forest-paradise 
the trees were being sacrificed relentlessly simply to ob- 
tain a few more acres on which the farmer could grow 
his crops. If it had to be done — and Heaven knows it 
need not have been — the trees might have been utilized 
for timber. Many have been cut, of course, but thou- 
sands upon thousands have been burned simply to clear 
the hillside. 

At Shing Lung-shan we met our hunters and con- 
tinued up the valley for three hours. With every mile 
there were fewer open spaces ; we had come to a region 
of vast mountains, gloomy valleys, and heavy forests. 
The scenery was superb ! It thrilled me as did the moun- 
tains of Yiin-nan and the gorges of the Yangtze. Yet 
all this grandeur is less than one hundred miles from 
Peking! 

On a little ridge between two foaming streams we 
made our camp in the forest. From the door of the 
tent we could look over the tops of the trees into the 
blue distance of the valley; behind us was a wall of for- 
ests broken only by the winding corridor of the moun- 
tain torrent. 



THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 263 

We had come to the Tung Ling especially to obtain 
specimens of the sika deer (Cervus hortulorum) and 
the Reeves's pheasant (Syrmaticus reevesi). The for- 
mer, a noble animal about the size of our Virginia deer 
in America, has become exceedingly rare in north China. 
The latter, one of the most beautiful of living birds, is 
found now in only two localities — near Ichang on the 
Yangtze River, and at the Tung Ling. When the for- 
ests of the Eastern Tombs have been cleared this species 
will be extinct in all north China. 

Early in the morning we left with six hunters. Our 
way led up the bottom of the valley toward a mountain 
ridge north of camp. As we walked along the trail, 
suddenly one of the hunters caught me by the arm and 
whispered, "Sang-chi" (wild chicken). There was a 
whir of wings, a flash of gold — and I registered a clean 
miss! The bird alighted on the mountain side, and in 
the bliss of ignorance Smith and I dashed after it. Ten 
minutes later we were exhausted from the climb and the 
pheasant had disappeared. We learned soon that it is 
useless to chase a Reeves's pheasant when it has once 
been flushed, for it will invariably make for a mountain 
side, run rapidly to the top, and, once over the summit, 
fly to another ridge. 

On the way home I got my first pheasant, and an 
hour later put up half a dozen. I should have had two 
more, but instead of shooting I only stared, fascinated 
by the beauty of the thing I saw. It was late in the 
afternoon and the sun was drawing oblique paths of 
shimmering golden light among the trees. In a clearing 



264 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

near the summit of a wooded shoulder I saw six pheas- 
ants feeding and I realized that, by skirting the base of 
the ridge, I could slip up from behind and force them 
to fly across the open valley. The stalk progressed ac- 
cording to schedule. When I crossed the ridge there 
was a whir of wings and six birds shot into the air not 
thirty feet away. The sun, glancing on their yellow 
backs and streaming plumes, transformed them into 
golden balls, each one with a comet-trail of living 
fire. 

The picture was so indescribably beautiful that I 
watched them sail across the valley with the gun idle in 
my hands. Not for worlds would I have turned one of 
those glorious birds into a crumpled mass of flesh and 
feathers. For centuries the barred tail plumes, which 
sometimes are six feet long, have been worn by Chinese 
actors, and the bird is famous in their literature. It 
will be a real tragedy when this species has passed out 
of the fauna of north China, as it will do inevitably if 
the wanton destruction of the Twig Ling forests is con- 
tinued unchecked. 

The next afternoon four sika deer gave me a hard 
chase up and down three mountain ridges. Finally, we 
located the animals in a deep valley, and I had an oppor- 
tunity to examine them through my glasses. Much to 
my disgust I saw that the velvet was not yet off the 
antlers and that their winter coats were only partly shed. 
They were valueless as specimens and forthwith I aban- 
doned the hunt. Before leaving Peking I had visited 
the zoological garden to make sure that the captive 



THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 265 

sika had assumed their summer dress and antlers. But 
at the Tung Ling, spring had not yet arrived, and the 
animals were late in losing their winter hair. 

In summer the sika is the most beautiful of all deer. 
Its bright red body, spotted with white, is, when seen 
among the green leaves of the forest, one of the loveliest 
things in nature. We wished to obtain a group of these 
splendid animals for the new Hall of Asiatic Life in 
the American Museum of Natural History, but the 
specimens had to be in perfect summer dress. 

My hunter was disgusted beyond expression when I 
refused to shoot the deer. The antlers of the sika when 
in the velvet are of greater value to the natives than 
those of any other species. A good pair of horns in full 
velvet sometimes sells for as much as $450. The grow- 
ing antlers are called shueh-chiao (blood horns) by the 
Chinese, who consider them of the highest efficacy as a 
remedy for certain diseases. Therefore, the animals are 
persecuted relentlessly and very few remain even in the 
Tung Ling. 

The antlers of the wapiti are also of great value to 
the native druggists, but strangely enough they care 
little for those of the moose and the roebuck. Hundreds 
of thousand of deerhorns are sent from the interior prov- 
inces of China to be sold in the large cities, and the com- 
plete extermination of certain species is only a matter 
of a few decades. Moreover, the female elk, just before 
the calving season, receive unmerciful persecution, for 
it is believed that the unborn fawns have great medicinal 
properties. 



266 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

Since the roebuck at the Tung Ling were in tHe same 
condition as the sika, they were useless for our purposes. 
The goral, however, which live high up on the rocky 
peaks, had not begun to shed their hair, and they gave 
us good shooting. One beautiful morning Smith killed 
a splendid ram just above our camp. We had often 
looked at a ragged, granite outcrop, sparsely covered 
with spruce and pine trees, which towered a thousand 
feet above us. We were sure there must be goral some- 
where on the ridge, and the hunters told us that they 
had sometimes killed them there. It was a stiff climb, 
and we were glad to rest when we reached the summit. 
The old hunter placed Smith opposite an almost per- 
pendicular face of rock and stationed me beyond him on 
the other side. Three beaters had climbed the mountain 
a mile below us and were driving up the ridge. 

For half an hour I lay stretched out in the sun lux- 
uriating in the warmth and breathing in the fragrant 
odor of the pines. While I was lazily watching a Chi- 
nese green woodpecker searching for grubs in a tree 
near by, there came the faintest sound of a loosened 
pebble on the cliff above my head. Instantly I was alert 
and tense. A second later Smith's rifle banged once. 
Then all was still. 

In a few moments he shouted to me that he had fired 
at a big goral, but that it had disappeared behind the 
ridge and he was afraid it had not been hit. The old 
hunter, however, had seen the animal scramble into a 
tiny grove of pine trees. As it had not emerged, I was 
sure the goral was wounded, and when the men climbed 



THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 267 

up the cliff they found it dead, bored neatly through the 
center of the chest. 

Gorals, sika, and roebuck are by no means the only 
big game animals in the Tung Ling. Bears and leop- 
ards are not uncommon, and occasionally a tiger is killed 
by the natives. Among other species is a huge flying 
squirrel, nearly three feet long, badgers, and chipmunks, 
a beautiful squirrel with tufted ears which is almost 
black in summer and now is very rare, and dozens of 
small animals. But perhaps most interesting of all the 
creatures of these noble forests are the only wild mon- 
keys to be found in northeastern China. 

The birds are remarkable in variety and numbers. 
Besides the Reeves's pheasant, of which I have spoken, 
there are two other species of this most beautiful family. 
One, the common ring-necked pheasant, is very abun- 
dant ; the other is the rare Pucrasia, a gray bird with a 
dark-red breast, and a yellow striped head surmounted 
by a conspicuous crest. It is purely a mountain form 
requiring a mixed forest of pine and oak and, although 
more widely distributed than the Reeves's pheasant, it 
occurs in comparatively few localities of north China. 

One morning as Smith and I were coming back from 
hunting we saw our three boys perched upon a ledge 
above the stream peering into the water. They called 
to us, "Would you like some fish?" "Of course," we 
answered, "but how can you get them?" 

In a second they had slipped from the rock and were 
stripping off their clothes. Then one went to the shal- 
lows at the lower end of the pool and began to beat the 



268 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

surface with a leafy branch, while the other two crouched 
on the bowlders in midstream. Suddenly, one of the 
boys plunged his head and arms into the water and 
emerged with a beautiful speckled trout clutched tightly 
in both hands. He had seen the fish swim beneath the 
rock where it was cornered and had caught it before it 
could escape. 

For an hour the two boys sat like kingfishers, abso- 
lutely motionless except when they dived into the water. 
Of course, they often missed ; but when we were ready 
to go home they had eight beautiful trout, several of 
them weighing as much as two pounds. The stream was 
full of fish, and we would have given worlds for a rod 
and flies. 

Lii baked a loaf of corn bread in his curious little 
oven made from a Standard Oil tin, and we found a 
jar of honey in our stores. Brook trout fried in deep 
bacon fat, regular "southern style" corn bread and 
honey, apple pie, coffee, and cigarettes — the "hardships 
of camping in the Orient !" 

When we had been in camp a week we awoke one 
morning to find a heavy cloud of smoke drifting up the 
valley. Evidently a tremendous fire was raging, and 
Smith and I set out at once on a tour of investigation. 
A mile down the valley we saw the whole mountain side 
ablaze. It was a beautiful sight, I admit, but the de- 
struction of that magnificent forest appalled us. For- 
tunately, the wind was blowing strongly from the east, 
and there was no danger that the fire might sweep north- 
ward in the direction of our camp. As we emerged into 



THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 269 

a tiny clearing, occupied by a single log hut, we saw two 
Chinese sitting on their heels, placidly watching the 
roaring furnace across the valley. 

With a good deal of excitement we asked them how 
the fire possibly could have originated. 

"Oh," said one, "we started it ourselves.' ' In the 
name of the five gods why did you do it?" Smith asked. 
"Well, you see," returned the Chinese, "there was quite 
a lot of brush here in our clearing and we had to get rid 
of it. To-day the wind was right, so we set it on fire." 

"But don't you see that you have burned up that 
whole mountain's side, destroyed thousands of trees, 
and absolutely ruined this end of the valley?" 

"Oh, yes, but never mind; it can't be helped," the 
native answered. Then I exploded. I frankly confess 
that I cursed that Chinese and all his ancestors; which 
is the only proper way to curse in China. I assured him 
that he was an "old rabbit" and that his father and his 
grandfather and his great-grandfather were rabbits. 
To tell a man that he is even remotely connected with 
a rabbit is decidedly uncomplimentary in China. 

But when it was all said I had accomplished nothing. 
The man looked at me in blank amazement as though I 
had suddenly lost my mind. He had not the faintest 
idea that burning up that beautiful forest was reprehen- 
sible in the slightest degree. To him and all his kind, 
the only thing worth while was to clear that bit of land 
in the valley. If every tree on the mountain was de- 
stroyed in the process, what difference did it make? It 
would be done eventually, anyway. Land, whether it 



270 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 

be on a hill or in a valley, was made to grow crops and 
to be cultivated by Chinese farmers. 

The wanton destruction which is being wrought at 
the Tung Ling makes me sick at heart. Here is one of 
the most beautiful spots in all China, within less than 
one hundred miles of Peking, which is being ruined ut- 
terly as fast as ax and fire can do the work. One can 
travel the length and breadth of the whole Republic and 
not find elsewhere so much glorious scenery in so small 
a space. Moreover, it is the last sanctuary of much of 
north China's wild life. When the forests of the Tung 
Ling are gone, half a dozen species of birds and mam- 
mals will become extinct. How much of the original 
flora of north China exists to-day only in these forests 
I would not dare say, for I am not a botanist, but it 
can be hardly less than the fauna of which I know. 

If China could but realize before it is too late how 
priceless a treasure is being hewed and burned to noth- 
ingness and take the first step in conservation by making 
a National Park of the Eastern Tombs! 

Politically there are difficulties, it is true. The Tung 
Ling, and all the surroundings, as I have said, belong 
unquestionably to the Manchus, and they can do as they 
wish with their own. But it is largely a question of 
money, and were the Republic to pay the price for the 
forests and mountains beyond the Tombs it would not 
be difficult to do the rest. No country on earth ever had 
a more splendid opportunity to create for the genera- 
tions of the present and the future a living memorial to 
its glorious past. THE END 



INDEX 



Aeroplanes, 182 

Altai Mountains, 182 

American Museum of Natu- 
ral History, Asiatic Ex- 
plorations of, vii; trustees of, 
viii, ix. 

Anderson, Dr. J. G., Mining Ad- 
viser to Chinese Republic, ix, 

39 
Anderson, Meyer and Co., assist- 
ance rendered to expedition 

by, ix, 82, 138, 173 
Andrews, Yvette B., extract 

from "Journal" of, 46, 47 
Antelope, description of hunt 

for, 15, 107; speed of, 23, 44, 

97, 106, 118 
Anthropoides virgo, 11, 42, 55, 

88, 91, 93 
Argali, 174, 186, 197, 201, 210, 

212 
Argul, desert fuel, 11, 24, 34 
Asia, viii 

Asia Magazine, ix 
Asian plateau, viii 
Asiatic mammals, viii 
Asiatic zoological explorations, 

vii 
Asses, wild (Equus hemionus), 

88 
Atunzi, 169 
Avocets, 42 



Baikal Lake, 25 

Barker, Major Austin, 213, 215, 

217 
Beach, Rex, quoted, 186 
Bear, 67 

Bennett, C. R., ix 
Bernheimer, Mr. and Mrs. 

Charles L., viii 
Bighorn sheep (Argali), 87, 174, 

186 
Boar, 67, 171 
Bogdo-ol (God's Mountain), 62, 

67, 88, 99, 142, 151 
Bolsheviki, 25, 32 
Bolshevism, xii 
Buriats, xiii 
Burma, vii, 2 
Bustard, 23, 61, 95 

Caldwell, Rev. Harry R., 186, 

191, 195, 203, 212, 216, 225, 

232, 242 
Canadian Pacific Ocean Service, 

transportation to America of 

collections by, x 
Capreolus bedfordi, 232 
Caravans, camel, 13, 27, 62, 66, 

91 
Casarca casarca, 94 
Castle, Rev. H., x 
Cathay, 1, 64 
C-ervus hortulorum, 268 



271 



272 



INDEX 



Cheetah, 130 

Che-kiang, Province of, x, 38 

Chen, Chinese taxidermist, 39, 
164 

Chinese, xi, 8, 63, 75, 79 

Chinese Turkestan, 182 

Chou, Duke, 257 

Citellus mongolicus umbratus, 
42 

Coltman, Charles L., Mr. and 
Mrs., ix, 2, 14, 25, 31, 47, 60, 
150, 185 

Cranes, 61; demoiselle, 11, 42, 
55, 88, 91, 9$ 

Cricetulus, 131 

Cunningham, Hon. E. S., Amer- 
ican Consul General, x 

Cygnopsis cygnoides, 94 

Czechs, 26, 32 



Dane, Sir Richard, 185 

Da Wat Mountain, camped at 

foot of, 144 
Delco Electric lighting plant, 

39, 60 
De Tarascon, Tartarin, 47 
Dogs, 9, 76 
Dorchy, Tserin, 144, 146, 149, 

151, 153, 155, 161, 163, 165, 

170, 172 
Ducks, mallard, 11, 42, 95; 

ducks, shoveler, 42, 95 



Eagles, 11 
Elk, 67, 238 
Equus hemionus, 88 
Equus prejevalski, 87 
Eulabeia indica, 95 



Fabalis anser, 95 
Fauna, Mongolian, vii 
Faxon, H. C, ix 
Feng-chen, 187, 181 
Fuel, 11 

Gazella gutturosa, 127; Gazella 

prejevalski, 127; Gasella sub- 

gutturosa, 127 
Gazelles, 47, 48, 127 
Genghis Khan, xi, 3, 71, 84 
Gillis, I. V., ix 
Gobi Desert, 1, 15, 27, 43, 62, 

77, 128, 175, 181 
God's Mountain (Bogdo-ol), 

62, 67, 151 
Goose, bar-headed, 95; bean, 95 
Gophers (Citellus mongolicus 

umbratus), 42, 99 
Goral, 194, 231, 234, 266 
Great Wall of China, 2, 4, 8 
Grouse, sand, 23 
Guptil, A. M., ix, 25, 26, 28, 

29, 31, 33, 37, 173 

Hami, 182 

Hamster, desert (Cricetulus) , 
131 

Hares, 61 

Harper's Magazine, ix 

Hei-ma-hou, 3, 4, 5, 7, 11, 33, 
39 

Holcomb, Captain Thomas, 220 

Honan, 38 

Horses, wild (Equus prejeval- 
ski), 87 

Ho-shun, 243 

Hsi Ling, 257 

Hsu Shu-tseng, General, xiii, 
141 



INDEX 



273 



Hupeh, 58 

Hutchins, C. T., Naval Attache, 

American Legation, ix, 213 
Hutukhtu, the Living Buddha, 

xii, xiii, 3, 60, 67, 68, 71 

Ibex, 87 

Irkutsk, 25, 29, 32 

Jackson, G. M., General Pas- 
senger Agent, Canadian Pacific 
Ocean Service, appreciation 
for assistance in transporta- 
tion of collections by, x 

Jardine, Matheson and Co., of 
Shanghai, 44 

Kalgan, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 13, 15, 28, 
29, 33, 35 , 36, 39, 44, 99, 127, 
142, 176, 182, 183 

Kang, Chinese taxidermist, 39 

Kang Hsi, Emperor, xiii 

Kao-chia-chuang, 243, 246 

Kendrick, J., ix 

Khans, 63 

Kiakhta, xiv, 179, 183 

Kobdo, 182 

Korostovetz, M., xii 

Kublai Khan, xi, 1, 7, 71, 160 

Kwei-hua-cheng, 183, 193, 203 

Lake Baikal, 25 

Lama church, 71 

Lama City, 76, 79 

Lamaism, xi, 71 

Lamas, 14, 24, 62; monastery 

of, 14 
Lapwing (Vanellus vanellus), 

94 
Lapwings, 11 



Larsen, F. A., ix, 9, 81, 11% 
141, 176 

"Little Hsu/' xiii 

Loo-choo Islands, 31 

Lucander, Mr. and Mrs., 3, 5, 
18, 69, 79 

Lucas, Dr. F. A., acknowledg- 
ment to, viii 

Lii, cook for expedition, 39, 85, 
117 

Lung Chi'en, Emperor, tomb of, 
260 

MacCallie, Mr. and Mrs. E. L., 
x, 39, 43, 46, 48, 50, 53, 54, 
57, 61, 75, 103, 164, 173 

Magyars, 25, 32 

Mai-ma-cheng, 62, 141, 173 

Mallards, 192 

Ma-lin-yu, residence of Duke 
Chou, 259 

Ma-lu, 223, 225 

Mamen, Mr. and Mrs. Oscar, 
x, 3, 25, 28, 61, 69, 103, 173 

Mammals, Asiatic, viii 

Manchu, xi; dynasty of, xiv 

Manchus, 8 

Mannlicher, 173, 239 

Marmota robust a, 101 

Marmot, 25, 52, 61, 88, 99, 100; 
Mongols' method of captur- 
ing, 103, 174, 178 

Mauser, 16 

Meadow mice (Microtus), 93 

Memorial addressed to Presi- 
dent of Chinese Republic, xiii 

Microtus, 93, 100, 131 

Ministry of Foreign Affairs, ix 

Mongolia, fauna of, vii; religion 
of, 71 



274 



INDEX 



Mongolian Trading Company/ 

25 
Mongols, 8, 22, 41, 43; dislike 

for the body of the dead, 74; 

dress of, 21, 64, 65; food of, 

78; manner of riding of, 21; 

manner of catching trout by, 

164; morals of, 78; Southern, 

10 
Motion picture photography, 47, 

50, 136 
Motor cars, 2, 3, 43, 50, 58, 62, 

66 , 84, 134, 174, 182; Ford, 

28; hunting from, 109; 

troubles with, 13, 27, 150 
Musk deer, 169, 170 
Mustela, 110 

Naha, 31 

Na-mon-gin, Mongol hunter, 

195, 196, 205, 210, 213, 232, 

236 
Nankou Pass, 2 
Natural History, ix 
Nemorhcedus caudatus, 234 
Nemorhcedus griseus, 234 

Olufsen, E. V., ix, 82, 138, 142 

Omsk, 32 

Orlow, A., Russian Diplomatic 

Agent, x, 88 
Osborn, Henry Fairfield, viii, 

18 
Outer Mongolia, xii, 41 
Ovis comosa, 186 
Ovis jubata, 186 
Owen, 39, 50 

Panj-kiang, telegraph station at, 
14, 22, 31, 44, 54, 128 



Pan-yang wild sheep, 176, 

180, 194, 201, 214 
Peck, Willys, ix 
Peking, 1, 26, 29, 37, 173, 178, 

183 
Peking-Hankow Railroad, 242 
Peking Press, quoted from, xiii- 

xv 
Peking-Suiyuan Railway, 44 ; 

motor service of, 180 
Perry, Commodore, 31 
Pheasant, Reeves's (Syrmaticus 

reevesi), 263 
Photography, motion picture, 47, 

50, 136 
Ping-ting-cho, 242 
Plover, 11, 45, 95 
Pluvialis dominicus fulvus, 45 
Polecat (Mustela), 110 
Polo, Marco, 12 
Prayer wheels, 73, 80 
President, Chinese Republic, 

Memorial addressed to, xiii 
Price, Ernest B., ix, 25, 33 
Prisons, description of, 80 
Pucrasia, 267 

Rat, kangaroo (Alactaga mon- 

golicaf), 132 
Ravens, 11 
Red Army, xiv 
Redheads, 95 
Reinsch, Paul S., ix 
Rifles used on expedition ; Mann- 

licher, 173, 234; Savage, 16 
Rockefeller Foundation, 100 
Roebuck, 67, 154, 163, 194, 231, 

243 
Rupicaprince, 234 
Russia, xii, xiv 



INDEX 



275 



Russian Consulate, 63 
Russians, xii, 13, 67 
Russo-Chinese, xii 

Sain Noin Khan, 87, 88, 97 

Savage rifle, 16 

Serow, 38, 234 

Shanghai, 183 

Shansi Mountains, 5 

Shantung, 38 

Sheep, bighorn, 205 

Sheldrake (C as area casarca), 

42, 94 
Shensi, 182 
Sherwood, George H., assistance 

rendered to expedition by, 

viii 
Shing Lung-shan, 26 1 
Shuri, Palace, 32 
Sian-fu, 182 
Siberian frontier, 179 
Sika deer (Cervus hortulorum), 

263 
Skylarks, 93 
Smith, E. G., ix, 242, 244, 246, 

250, 253, 256 
Stefansson, 87 
Swan geese (Cygnopsis cyg- 

noides), 94 
Syrmaticus reevesi, 263 

Tabool, 9, 10 
Tai Hai, 191 
Tai yuan-fu, 243 
Takin, 234 
Tanu Ulianghai, xiv 
Tao Kwang, Emperor, xiii 
Teal, 11, 42 

Telegraph poles, method of pro- 
tection of, 11 



Tenney, Dr. C. D., ix 
Tent, American wall, 90; Mon- 
gol, 85, 90 
Terelche region, 172 
Terelche River, 143, 147 
Terelche Valley, 157 
Tibet, vii, 106 
Tientsin, 178, 183 
Tola River, 25, 28, 62, 68, 70, 

88, 91, 99 f 158, 161, 164 
Tola Valley, 67 
Tombs, 257 

Trans-Pacific Magazine, ix 
Trans-Siberian Railroad, 183 
Trout, manner of catching by 

Mongols, 164 
Tsai Tse, Duke, visit to palace 

of, 256 
Tung-cho, 258 
Tung-Ling, 257; pheasants and 

deer found at, 263 
Turin, 29, 31, 61, 104, 176, 

180; lamasery at, 23 
Tziloa, pigs found at, 245 
Tz'u-hsi, Dowager Empress, 

funeral of, 258 

Ude, telegraph station, 22, 31, 

55 
Uliassutai, 178, 182 
Urga, important fur market, 

173, 178, 182 
Urumchi, 182 

Verkin Udinsk, 183 
Vole, meadow (Microtus), 100, 
131 

Wai Chiao Pu, (Ministry of 
Foreign Affairs), ix 



276 



INDEX 



Wapiti, 164, 168, 172, 228, 231 
Warner, Langdon, 31, 32 
Weatherall, M. E., ix 
Weinz, Father, Belgian priest, 

85 
Wells, description of, 13 
White Army, xiv 
Wilder, Dr. George D., ix, 256 
Wireless station in course of 

erection, 182 
Wolf, 51, 57 



Wu Liang Taj en Hutung, 38, 

257 
Wu-shi-tu, 234 
Wu-tai-hai, 219, 221, 235 

Yangsen, Loobitsan, Duke, 137, 

140, 144, 152 
Yero mines, gold found at, 179 
Y tin-nan, vii, 2, 106 
Yurt, Mongol house, description 

of, 10, 57, 63 



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